Looking Back Through Old Photos Copyright 2013 TG Stone
Looking back through old photos. We’ve all done it – you’re searching in the attic for something, or clearing out a wardrobe when you’re moving - and you find a box. Sometimes it’s marked PERSONAL! in big letters. For some it’s a mystery as to the contents, you don’t really remember what’s in it, you haven’t looked inside it for years. Of course, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you have to open up the box, and then spend the next few hours adrift looking at faces you’d not seen in years. Laughing, remembering, sometimes nearly crying. Short-lived hairstyles come back to haunt you; clothes modelled on bands now long split up; best friends you haven’t seen since school; first loves who may now be into their second marriage.
A simple task turns into a whole afternoon living in yesteryear. When you could wear the tightest of jeans, go to clubs dressed in next to nothing, and you didn’t have a care in the world.
That’s what Diane was doing, and she came across a photo of Paul. Doing his best Mick Jagger pose, hat pushed back on his head, shades on. Oh yes, Paul thought he was every inch the coolest dude in school. Diane held the picture close for a long time, breaking into a big, big smile. He was in the year beneath her in the photo, just moved into town; and back then she was in her last year before going to university. Because of that, their paths didn’t cross very often.
One weekend another pupil’s parents made the mistake of going away for a break, and leaving their teenage son and daughter in charge of the family home. Yep – party.
Fifty, maybe sixty dressed up, made up and slightly boozed up kids descended on the house. The music got louder, and changed after each track, as the boys hogging the stereo each wanted to play their favourite tune of the moment. The odd ornament got knocked over and broken, the kitchen turned into a sea of empty cans and smuggled bottles, and half empty glasses started to get used as ashtrays. It was all pretty good natured though, and when the neighbours came round to ask for the volume to be turned down, it duly was. On each of the three occasions they had to come and ask.
During one of the rowdier moments, Diane went upstairs to find the bathroom. Most of the doors were shut, with dubious muffled noises coming from within. Thankfully there was only one other girl queuing. Afterwards, Diane came back down the corridor and past a slightly open door, with the sound of a guitar being gently strummed coming out. She recognised the song, and put her head inside. The light was off, but she could see Paul sat on a chair by the window, concentrating on the frets in just the streetlight glow.
‘Hello – all on your own?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, it was getting a bit heavy down there, thought I’d take a breather. Found this,’ he said, motioning down at the guitar. ‘I still can’t get the last key change right.’
‘Sounds pretty good to me,’ Diane offered. ‘Just don’t break it, it’s their Dad’s!’
Paul frowned at her. ‘No way, this is a Gibson, it’s vintage. This baby deserves respect, y’know? I wouldn’t put a scratch on this, swear on my life.’
Diane had heard some of her friends talk about the ‘cute’ kid that had started in the year below. The girl’s conversation had turned ever more x rated as they described what they’d each like to do to him, ending in peals of shrieking, dirty laughter. She’d seen Paul a few times, swaggering around, each day a different outfit that brought disapproving looks from the teachers. She’d written him off as a bit cocky, and a bit young. On his own though, here in the bedroom, he was different. He started to talk about guitars, and bands. He was very passionate, and knew his stuff. It turned out they liked the same music, except he owned all the records and she didn’t. He was open and friendly, not flash – and he didn’t come across as a kid. He didn’t lecture her about music, he seemed genuinely interested in what she thought.
They must have sat there in the half gloom for over an hour talking away, laughing, Paul trying to show her the basic chords. Then at about one thirty, he looked at his watch and said, ‘Oooh, better go, I’m past my curfew.’ He sounded a little sad.
Diane didn’t want this to stop either. As he was putting the guitar back in it’s case, she remembered something. ‘I’m baby sitting for my Mum’s friend next Friday. Er, you wanna come round?’
Paul stopped. ‘Where?’
He whistled. ‘Posh part of town. What time?’
‘I usually get the twins to bed about eight thirty…so, say nine?’
‘Sure,’ he said, adding, ‘Can I bring some sounds?’
‘Yeah, but not too loud. We’ll have to be in the kitchen, because it’s miles away from the kid’s bedroom. See you then, right?’
‘OK, see you then Diane.’
It was only then that she realised he knew her name. He smiled, tapped his watch, and made a ‘sorry’ face. Then he was gone.
She sat there for a while, listening to the party winding down. What had she just done? Mum’s friends were really nice, but they probably weren’t banking on her and a boy being alone in their house. Ah well, she’d invited him now – she’d just have to get him out before they came back.
The week dragged, and Diane was still a little on edge about inviting Paul. Eventually the days clicked by, and she found herself going through all her clothes early Friday night. Short skirt? Skimpy vest top? ‘Come on girl, you’re not going to a club!’ she hissed to herself. ‘It’s just two people sitting around, talking about music.’ Anyway, Mum’s friends would know something was up if she turned up dressed to the nines – so, jeans and a band t shirt it was. The tightest jeans she had though…
After the adults had left, and everything gradually died down in the house - and she’d read their favourite story five times - the kids were silent at last.
Eventually Diane heard a faint knock on the door. It was a slightly quirky ‘architect designed’ house, and the front door was down a short flight of stairs. Diane opened it, to see Paul grinning sheepishly, clutching a bag full of records to his chest. ‘Hiya, come on in, but be quiet till we get to the kitchen,’ she half whispered. He stepped in, and silently pulled the big door shut behind him. Diane turned and walked up the stairs.
Paul stood, rooted to the spot, staring up. He couldn’t help the thought that zapped through his mind, ‘Wow, that is one fantastic butt.’
‘Oi, come on up,’ Diane mouthed, waving him up. Paul trailed after her, eyes glued to the swaying motion in front of him.
In the kitchen, Diane relaxed. ‘Phew, right – the kids won’t hear us now. You want a drink? We can’t touch any of the alcohol though.’
‘That’s fine, got any Coke?’
‘Oh yeah, one cold Coke coming up.’ She went to the fridge, poured out two tall glasses, and sat down at the table. ‘So, watcha got in the bag?’
‘New stuff, old stuff too; want me to put something on?’
The kitchen opened out onto the lounge, where the big snazzy hi fi was. ‘Tell you what,’ said Diane getting up, ‘Let me take a lucky dip for the first one.’ She closed her eyes, reached into the bag and slid out an LP.
‘Good choice,’ said Paul, and she walked into the lounge to put it on.
An hour later, and they hadn’t stopped talking. Rumours of famous bands on the point of splitting up, new tours, who was gonna be the next big thing. As Paul was telling the tale of how his mum was once down to the last two to be the backing singer for a very big act, Diane stopped really listening. She was taking in the movement of his soft looking lips. The way his nose crinkled a little when he got more animated. The way his hair fell about his face. She suddenly had a real need to touch that face.
She stood up and walked right in front of him, positioning herself between his feet. Paul stopped talking, and stared up at her. She bent down, and cupped his jaw with both hands. Slowly she inched her mouth down to his.
‘Diane, what are you doing?’ he blurted.
She wasn’t expecting to have to explain herself. Taken aback a little, she stumbled out the words, ‘Erm, I dunno. It’s just…I just really wanted to kiss you. But, if you don’t want to...’
‘I didn’t think you liked me like that - I didn’t imagine - look, you’re totally gorgeous Diane…I’m sorry, I was just a bit surprised.’
Diane smiled down at him. So, for all the ‘cool dude’ act, he really was a bit of a novice. ‘And, he thinks I’m gorgeous,’ she mused to herself.
‘Christ, I’m really sorry Diane, I feel a right idiot...it’s just that…’
Diane placed a finger on his lips. ‘Shhh…so, do you want me to kiss you?’
He said nothing for a moment, then just about got out the words, ‘Yeah…yeah, course.’
She leaned her lips onto his, and for a second their heads stumbled to find the right angles. Then it all fell into place, and she explored the softness of his mouth, tongues then searching each other. Paul grew more confident, and kissed her back just as eagerly. He lifted his hands to her head, and nestled his fingers into her hair.
Diane trailed a finger down his jaw, then his neck, stroking up and down. He held her head a little tighter, and pulled her lips onto his. She slowly stroked her fingers zig zagging across his chest, crossing down until she felt his stomach, then the belt and top of his jeans. Paul broke off for a second, breathing in sharply. Diane’s hand paused, resting against his tummy, then he came back to her lips and kissed her hard again. In one move she slid her hand down full onto his crotch. She couldn’t help herself – she let out a giggle.
‘What’s funny?’ he said, sounding confused and not a little hurt.
‘Well, I didn’t expect you’d be so…ready.’ She could feel his cock growing down the top of his thigh under her hand. She softly rubbed her palm up and down it, encouraging it even more. Paul closed his eyes, and groaned in the back of his throat. Diane could feel the heat of him through the denim, and kept gliding her hand back and forth. Then she squeezed his cock, put her mouth to his ear and said, ‘I think this needs some fresh air, don’t you? Shall I get it out for you?’
Paul could only stare into her eyes, and mumble, ‘Okay.’
Diane knelt down between his legs, in front of the chair. She held the buckle up with one hand, and drew the belt through with the other. She popped the button, then teased him a little more by dragging a finger up and down the zip a few times. Diane looked up; his eyes were closed, head tilted back. She smiled, and went back to her work.
She eased the zip down, and pulled his jeans as open as she could. She reached up, and slid her hand down inside his clothing from his belly. She felt his soft curls of hair, then flesh. Warm flesh. She kept pushing down until her fingers traced down his shaft. By now Paul was rock hard, his cock wedged down the leg of his skinny jeans – this wasn’t going to be easy. She gripped his cock and started to drag it backwards and out. Suddenly he sprang free, and Paul moaned. Rocking side to side in front of Diane’s face was Paul’s shining, solid, fresh cock. She stared at it, taking it all in. The thick vein underneath stood out proud, the head of it was so full that all it’s protective skin had rolled back completely. It twitched at her, begging for relief.
Diane leant forward, and just with the very tip of her tongue, licked the slit at the end. Paul groaned, and sighed, ‘Ohh fuck.’
Diane laid gentle kisses on the head of Paul’s dick. Then, she formed her lips into an O, and slid the tip into her mouth. She didn’t move for a moment, she was enjoying his heat, his taste. She pursed her lips down on the ridge at the base of the head, and began slowly bobbing up and down, gliding the top of his cock through her lips. Paul was gone now, slumped back and not seeing or hearing anything – just aware of the sensations sparking off in his dick.
Diane kept on softly wanking his tip with her lips, and then brought her tongue forward to start tracing circles on it in her mouth. She explored every bit of it, and pressed her tongue up harder onto it, cradling it from underneath. She brought her hand up to join in, and lightly brushed her finger and thumb up and down his shaft, feeling the veins pulse, the soft soft skin stretched so tight. Diane curled her fingers around it, and gripped it tight at the base. She drew her hand up and down, matching the rhythm of her mouth. Paul was getting double the pleasure now, and she could feel him start to pulse. She drew her lips back off his cock, but kept on rolling his skin back and forth in her hand. She saw a trace of fluid seep from the slit, and slowed right down, while relaxing her grip to a faint touch. Diane was loving the sight; Paul was breathing shallow, and she was only just keeping him on the edge of climax.
Then she brought her lips back to his cock, and opened her mouth wider. She took in the throbbing head, and then pushed on further, as more of his shaft filled her. Eventually, she felt the wisps of his hair on her nose, and began rocking her head slowly. Paul couldn’t take this, almost shouting ‘Jesus Diane, you’re gonna make me cum!’ She slowly slid her head backwards off his dick, until it was in front of her face again. Glistening, it was twitching at her.
‘Sorry Paul, but not yet you don’t,’ she whispered up to him. Her hand let go of his cock, and rested on his thigh. ‘Have you ever licked a girl?’
He was wide eyed, trying to take in what was happening. He shook his head. ‘Well I think it’s about time you had your first lesson,’ she said, grinning up at him. ‘But we don’t need so much clothing anymore.’ She pulled off his boots, and reached up to grab his jeans at the hips. Paul got the message, and shifted on the chair to let her tug them down his legs, finally throwing them on top of his discarded boots.
Diane stood up in front of him. ‘Seeing as you’re half naked, I s’pose it’d only be fair if I was too?’ She kicked off her shoes, and with her crotch at around Paul’s eye level, started to pop the buttons of her jeans. Shimmying the waistband down her hips, she let Paul stare at the lacy panties underneath, watching his mesmerised face throughout. Then she turned around, and slid the denims down her legs. Bent over, Diane’s ass was inches from his face. The jeans were thrown on top of his, and still with her back to him, she stood up and hooked her thumbs into the straps. Very slowly, and very deliberately, she slid them down to the floor too. She paused there, and turned her head round to him. ‘Like what you see Paul?’ His mouth just hung open, he couldn’t even blink.
Eventually he was able to half say ‘Oh god yes.’
She stood up straight, turned to face him again, and sat herself up on the kitchen table. Diane edged backwards a little on the cool surface, then lowered her back down til she rested on her elbows. She brought her knees up and placed her toes on the table edge, then spread open her legs. Staring down into Paul’s face she said ‘Come on then, pull up your chair.’ Suddenly less dumb-struck, he almost jumped forward, and settled into position with his face inches above her sex. His eyes traced in on every detail, every curve. From her belly button down to her cropped hair…..over her thighs to the start of her ass cheeks…..to the folds of her lips, and the slick shiny pinkness of her. At this, he stopped and fixed his stare. After a moment Diane had to laugh and said, ‘OK Paul, I think that’s enough of your private show…..lick me. Be gentle, but not too gentle.’
He lowered his face, and starting at the base of her slit, put just the very tip of his tongue on her. Slowly he moved up, hardly touching at all, until he brushed over the bead of her clit. Diane shuddered a little, letting out a sigh. He started back down, feeling the warmth of the delicate flesh, and as he reached the bottom of her lips again he tasted the tang of her. Diane’s wetness seeped onto his tongue, and he pushed in more to gather it all up. His face nuzzled against her, and her juices coated his mouth.
He began licking her up and down with more purpose now, opening out her lips, and lingering longer every time he trailed over her clit. At the bottom of each stroke his tongue hunted a little deeper inside. Diane looked down at his explorations, and smiled. She brought a hand to her chest, and started to roll her nipple between finger and thumb.
Paul was a good learner; every roll of his tongue over Diane’s clit brought out a tiny sound of pleasure from her. So, he stayed there, lapping gently on it. He pushed down with a little more pressure, while still rolling the bulb with the tip of his tongue. Diane’s soft moans told him to keep going. He lifted his fingers to her inner thighs, and brushed down them until he felt the curve of her ass cheeks. He stroked her lips, smearing juice over his fingers, and slid the top of his index inside her. Drawing tiny circles inside her flesh, Paul pushed his finger deeper, tracing up the front wall within. It came to rest in a hollow ridge at the top. Diane’s hips started to circle along with his motion inside. He slowly withdrew his index, and replaced it with his first two fingers. His tongue flicking over her clit quicker, and his fingertips building a rhythm in her hot wetness, Diane’s moans grew louder.
She lifted her feet and placed them over his shoulders and down his back, pulling him onto her. Paul could feel her bucking, all her muscles were tight. His tongue pressed harder, the tip licking faster and faster over her clit. Diane’s moans had turned into words – ‘Yes, that’s it, that’s it,’ she kept saying, getting higher in pitch each time. Then she shuddered, and shook, her hips pulsing up into Paul’s face; and cried out, ‘Yes, oh fuck yes!’
Eventually her spasms ebbed, to just the occasional pulse inside. Paul looked up into her face, but she murmured, ‘Don’t stop, just go back to how you started.’ So, again he trailed his tongue up and down her clit, with just a feathery touch. He stayed slow and light, as if to soothe the swollen bud, and let Diane’s sensations build. Which they did – the soft moans began again, each time he traced over her clit. He didn’t press, didn’t get faster. He just kept coaxing the pleasure to rise. Soon he felt Diane’s muscles inside gripping his fingers again, and her words replaced the sighs. Her legs tightened on his back, and now he felt her hands run through his hair, then pulling his head down. He licked her just a little quicker, and with another cry she bucked forward again. His face was smeared with her juice, as she rode the wave and grinded into him.
Slowly, she relaxed from her high. She breathed deeply, and let her legs go limp. Not a word was said, and she played softly with Paul’s hair in her fingertips. He rested his head on her thigh. Later, her breathing normal now, she tapped his head and said, ‘How’s your cock Paul?’
‘Just about to burst,’ he replied, and Diane let out a snigger.
‘Right, well I can help with that,’ she said with a devilish smile. She lifted her legs off, and swivelled so she was lying flat along the table edge in front of him, her head propped up with one arm. ‘Stand up then,’ she said, so Paul did. His cock was level with her face. The head was a dark purple, and just as rock hard as when it had left her mouth earlier. The shaft was pointing up, almost towards his belly, and every vein under the delicate skin was pulsing. ‘Ooh, you do look ready to blow Paul, poor thing,’ she cooed. Diane raised one finger, and traced up a line from the back of his balls, up to the base of his dick, and then slowly over the vessels and ridges to the tip of his head. It was Paul’s turn to moan.
Still just with one finger, she began drawing her nail back and forth on the underside of his cock. It twitched and jumped, longing for something more final, but loving every agonising second. ‘Are you going to cum for me Paul?’ she said looking up into his eyes. Not waiting for an answer, she gripped her fingers around his shaft, and started to wank it with purpose. She squeezed her fingers as she rolled again and again over the base of his cockhead, his hot flesh burning into her palm. Her hand moved faster, and she felt the tell-tail jerking at the start of his orgasm. Paul arched his back, and with an almighty grunt a thick line of cum jetted out, flying above and right over the top of Diane’s head. She kept up her work, knowing there was more. Every few seconds another wave hit his cock, and his hot juice oozed out and trickled over her fingers.
Diane still gripped his shaft tight, and kept up her rhythm, until she could finally feel him relax. It took a while, and cum was still seeping from him, but Paul was eventually spent. His cock slowly softened in her hand, until she was just stroking it with two fingers. Diane turned her head to look behind her. At the far side of the table was a pool of his seed. ‘Damn nice shot Paul,’ she said, and they both fell into laughter.
She stood up and kissed him, and said, ‘Right, they’ll be back soon, so we better clean this place up.’ Then, with a cheeky grin added, ‘Well done in your first lesson by the way.’
A sound was tugging at Diane’s ears. A man’s voice calling up the stairs to the attic, getting closer, bringing her back to reality. Her mind cleared, and suddenly his words swam into focus.
‘Babe, what are you doing? You’ve been up there for hours - come on, the gig starts soon and you didn’t wanna be late for the support band. The babysitter’s just arrived.’
Diane put her hand to her mouth, and started to giggle. She shouted back, ‘I’ll be down now Paul.’
‘What have you been doing anyway?’ he called up again, at the base of the stairs.
‘Oh, you know…just looking through old photos.’
Many many thanks for reading this. Hope you had fun ;)
Keep me writing more, find me at tgstonewrites on Twitter
© TG Stone 2013
All rights reserved.
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