I hadn’t seen Michael Janson in the longest time, and I was sure he wouldn’t be too thrilled to see me. We had fought, and like every young couple who hadn’t chosen to be exclusive with each other, we had been dating other people for the span of our six-month “relationship”.

It was a game of broken reassurances and stalling, especially on my part, and I knew I had hurt the man. I was conflicted on matters of the heart, and like most women my age, it was not out of the ordinary at the time.

I wasn’t the best person when it came to opening up about my feelings, so when the opportunity arose to have a three-year art residency position, I quickly took it. It was a different state, a different way of life, and most especially, it would allow me to have a break from Michael.


The years went by quickly, and I enjoyed every bit of my new adventure. I loved meeting new people, going on several dates and learning to make fresh cuisine.

I even cut my hair shoulder length, a stark contrast to the wavy brown locs Michael loved. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of him, he knew exactly how to keep himself memorable.

He never forgot to send me presents for most anniversaries and birthdays, and even when I tweeted that I was tired from the day’s work, he’d always send me dinner.

One would think I would have been head over heels for him for being such a gentleman, but I could not just get myself to do it.

Michael and I had grown up together.

He happened to attend my school and work in my father’s restaurant after hours.

He was quiet, reserved, took care of his sister and managed to make something of his life even though his parents had quite a complicated past. What attracted me to him was how he could work, take care of his sister, top his class and get a full-ride scholarship to study business at our town’s university.

Even as I looked up to his character, nothing attracted me more than how he blossomed from a scrawny kid into a beautiful man. I enjoyed coming home during the holidays in college and often noted when he had gotten taller or gained muscle. He liked to change his hair, but he finally settled on a bun and full beard.

It was little wonder when he asked me out on our first date, I agreed, and before I knew it, we were always out of our clothes. Regrettably, as much as I enjoyed being with Michael during the college holidays, I wanted nothing more to explore, so I began to pull away until I finally left.

With him being close to my father, it was no surprise that he was sent to pick me up from the airport on my arrival from my three-year adventure. My parents were out of town and would not be back till the day after. Hence I needed him to let me into the house.

As I saw him at the airport, I noticed he had become even more handsome. Throughout our ride home, he was incredibly civil, but there was no denying that the tension and passion of wanting each other were still very much present.

The ride home was filled with us catching up and reminiscing on the good times, and I noticed he mainly tried not to bring up how upset he was about me leaving.

When we were finally home, he helped me bring my things to my room and settle in. We undeniably had quite the tension, as he often brushed up on me, and I would look at him with want in my eyes.

When we were settled, I led us to the kitchen, where I offered him something to drink. The more I bridged the gap between us, the more I knew he would not have the energy to contain how much he wanted me. From Michael’s eyes, I knew when he had lost restraint and that he was hanging by a thread.

I decided it best to bid him farewell, and as he stood to hug me, we lingered there for a moment, relishing in the warmth of our embrace.

Then he cupped my face and kissed me.

It was slow at first, and then it became very deliberate. Michael kissed my upper lip and my lower one, sucking my flesh into his. I loved how he tasted like honey and smelled like he had been working outside for a while.

He smelled of musk and sweat and like he had done something worthwhile. Quickly, my body and his submitted to each other. Soon, his hands left my face and fell onto my body.

My knees shook as his hands reached my breast and my stomach. He cupped the sides of my waist, and his fingers fell on either side of my belly button. He began to stroke ever so slightly as I raised my hands to his neck and buried my fingers into his hair.

I adored how the hair on his face caressed my cheek as he kissed me.

“I have missed you, Olivia Dutton,” he said as he broke our kiss.

My eyes stared into his.

Michael Janson always wanted me and never failed to make me feel wanted. He had always adored me, yet, I was always conflicted.

Today, however, was not one of those days. Today, I had butterflies from seeing him and hearing his voice. Maybe this was what I needed from him to decide that I would stay.

“I missed you too,” I replied and lightly kissed him again as I retreated slightly and gave some distance between us.

He gently sat me on the kitchen counter, slowly pushed up my skirt and began to massage my thighs. He grabbed me, pulled me closer and pressed his crotch to mine, and I could feel how hard he was through his joggers.

I was glad he didn’t wear jeans, and I could feel his girth and length against me. I knew what he felt like, but it had been so long that my memories had started to fade.

His hands moved up my thighs again, and he pressed further into me, and he began to sway ever so slightly, from side to side.

“Janson”, I moaned his pet name, albeit louder than I expected; This felt so wrong and so right. I was in my parents’ home, on their counter, and I was about to lose all home training and get railed.

His thumbs hooked onto my panties as my fingers found a way to get under his shirt and remove the material blocking my view. With a few twists and turns, he was out of it. He had tastefully put on some muscle and filled out even more nicely.

After lingering and enjoying the view before me, I watched as he skillfully left my panties and raised my face to his. He looked at me, and it felt like he could see me for all I was worth.

“If we do this, Liv, I’m afraid I will go a bit rough. Making love to you is not something I want to do today.”

I swallowed. Michael was right. He’d been nothing but nice to me, and I hadn’t handled it well. He had taken my rejection with civility and had just wanted to be friends, yet I kept running away and couldn’t even reply thank you to a birthday text. If he wanted to fuck me, I’d let him fuck me.

I moved my crotch closer to his until no space was left between us, and he took that as my reply. His nimble fingers steadied the flimsy strings that held my panties in place and snapped them with a quick muscle flex.

With my eyes kept firmly on his, I watched how his gaze transformed from want to need. He bent to kiss me while pulling my right breast out of my bra and removing whatever remained of my panties.

My bare ass sat on the counter, juices dripping out of me as he licked my freed mound. He knew how to lean me backwards so he could massage one breast still in my bra and dress, use another to play with my clit and use his tongue to suck on my freed nipple. As much as I wanted his tongue to be the one on my clit, I found myself not saying anything.

There was something thrilling about seeing that he needed me and could not wait to be inside me.

I hadn’t been quite the selfish lover and knew to give him encouraging massages as I ran my fingers from his hair to his chest and back, then his ass still clothed in joggers and finally his cock.

His tongue danced from making circles around my areola to tugging and sucking on my lips. All were complimenting the circular motion he made on my clit and finally translating to moist juices that I was sure already began to stain where I sat.

I was surprised at how wet I got, and he was too because he raised two drenched fingers to asses what he had done.


My juices dripping on his digits were enough to let him know I was ready to take him in, and indeed I was.


Leading with one long hard kiss, he took me down from the counter, grabbed one of the stools adjacent to it and flipped me over. My bare ass hung high in the air as my stomach wedged me.

I could feel blood rush to my head, and I knew that what Michael Janson would do to me would be something he had never done.

My breasts were hanging free.

The other caged one had made its way out. To steady myself, I found myself grabbing onto them.

What came next was Michael standing between my legs after positioning them apart. From my view in this rather revealing position, I could see he had pulled his joggers and boxers down. I was sad I couldn’t see his beautiful cock but was quickly comforted when I saw him take a step back.

He had bent forward to lick me.

It was a long stroke that ran from the hood of my clit to the end of my ass crack. He came back gently and licked my asshole again, making soft circular motions at the rim, sending me moaning his name, albeit too loudly. All in all, he repeated the act three times and then stopped. I wanted him to continue and wiggled my ass so he could take a hint. Instead, I was rewarded with a slap to my right cheek as he leaned forward to squeeze the contralateral breast.

“You get only three licks because you treated me like shit during those years,” He said in a very raspy voice.

I swallowed. He was annoyed, and he would fuck the hell out of me and sadly, I would enjoy it.

With two more slaps to my ass, he plunged himself into me, making me take his entire length and girth all at once. It was swift and hard, and it caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head.

His strokes were soft at first, but then they became harder and harder. My breasts bounced violently on my chest as he steadied himself using my waist.

He pushed into me and fucked me using deliberate strokes, with soft grunts and moans that almost sent me over the edge.

I hadn’t bothered him with a condom because I was on birth control and wanted to feel him completely inside me.

It had been too long.

I felt him stretch out every part of me and began to moan his name every so slightly. He would hit my sweet spot from that angle but not as much as I wanted. I felt his pace quicken from deliberate strokes and knew he was getting close. I wanted him to cum, but then again, I wanted to come too.

It was as though he felt me begging for my release as he raised me and arched my back by hooking his arm unto my elbows.

This position was all I needed as each stroke grazed me where I wanted it to. Each was sweet, hard and a beautiful ode to me cumming.

I could feel myself getting closer and could not muffle it anymore.

“Fucking hell Janson. Make me cum, please!” I screamed.

With more purposeful strokes, he finally got the rhythm and pace I needed for pleasure, and I bucked into him, drowning his cock with my juices.

It was a pleasure beyond measure, and I immediately knew why I had left in the first place.

His body owned mine.

I had not noticed he had cum as well and was pleasantly pleased when I heard him whisper “Fuck” in my ear as he came down from his high.

“I have missed you so much, Olivia. Welcome home.” He said between catching his breath and kissing my cheek.