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Take Two

The past isn't fixed

By Jack ScrantonPublished 2 months ago 3 min read

When Karen, browsing through the magazine racks, realized the guy crowding her from the side was Graham, her first impulse was to kick him in the balls and run. That delicious fantasy lasted maybe five seconds. Then she considered just running. Again. Instead, she leaned in close: "Did you finally learn to read, or do you still just look at the pictures?"

He straightened like she'd stuck a poker up his ass and froze, processing the sound of her voice. Then, the Graham she remembered turned to look at her.

"The only pictures I look at are yours, dear. Did I send you a link? They've gained quite the following."

Karen tried to rekindle the old anger, but the scenes such pictures might have portrayed awakened something different: longing. Her knees weakened and she grew momentarily dizzy. Damn. She'd have sworn she was over him.

"You don't have to be a jerk," she said. "Just say, 'good to see you,' and leave it at that."

"Who says it's good to see you?"

The floor crumbled beneath her.

"Actually, It's great to see you," he said. "You look fantastic."

Wait. Where'd the smartass go?

"So, how's... life?" Graham asked.

He actually seemed... sweet. Was that possible?

Karen shrugged. "Well... I'm... you know... still alive..." Another shrug.

Oh dear. Dork time! Somebody shoot me. Maybe she could just slash her wrists.

"Are you married?"

"No. Well... not really. Maybe. I'm dating two different married guys. Does that count?"

"Only in a bad sitcom."

She started to explain. But then she just stopped. "Damn! I hate being so glad to see you. No... that's... I didn't mean that. Yes, I did, but it came out wrong. I mean... not really..."

Graham laughed. "I'm glad to see all three or four of you, too." He touched her cheek. She wanted to push him away, keep herself insulated. Instead, she placed her hand on his and held it there.

He said, "You might have returned a call, answered an email."

"I would have... but I... I didn't."

Somebody, please, remind me why I left, so I can leave again.

"I wish you had."

Silence now. Stretching out. She squeezed his hand.

He said, "I live near here. A few blocks over."

As though someone else had taken charge of her body and mind, Karen heard her voice from afar: "Take me there."

* * *

"Leave your panties on. You know I'm a sucker for skinny girls, big tits and skimpy panties."

Karen spread her legs and slowly massaged beneath the material while Graham stroked his cock. It was stiff in seconds and bigger than she remembered.

"You didn't really take pictures of me, did you?"

He pointed to a book shelf. "Right over there. Smile."


She jumped up. Graham caught her. "Relax. Your charms are safe with me."

She smiled like she'd known it all along, but Graham wasn't fooled.

"Still can't trust me, eh?"

"Probably not. Guess that's why I left."

"Are you leaving again?"

"I don't want to. Help me stay."

He shook his head. "No can do. Not without a lot of rope. You want to stay, stay." His hand found its way between her thighs. "Here's what I do."

He rubbed her lips through her panties, pressing them together to catch her clit between. As the delicious sensations snaked through her, the unrelenting chatter in her brain slowed, then grew still. Almost.

"Graham... I don't want to fuck this up. I mean... last time—"

"How's this sound: If you can be quiet, I'll fuck you senseless."

"That works."

"We'll see."

He removed her panties, opened her legs and knelt between them. Karen always said size didn't matter, but as his engorged cock worked its way into her, it was more than her body that was filled. The intervening years all fell away.

"You know, Graham, I—"

"AHHH!!!! You leave me no choice!"

Then he stuffed Karen's panties in her mouth.

"Can we please fuck now?"

She nodded.

And, finally, her brain stopped altogether.

Well, maybe.


About the Creator

Jack Scranton

Writer, image retoucher, musician/composer, 3D artist. Despite modest success in all those fields, Photoshop paid the bills.

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