The last time.

We had fucked twice before and I knew this was going to be the last. We snuck out of the party and went down the back corner, like the first time we met. As he kissed me, his fingers were already in my cunt and it was saturated.

‘You’re already wet!’

‘Well, we better do something to fix you good, then’ was his promise. He plunged his fingers deeper in and whilst we tried to keep our movements in the shadows to a minimum, he gave me a proper finger bang. 

I gripped his shoulders and came in his hands, standing. Whilst I was trying to remember how to properly stand up, he cooed, proud of his work.

After a blow job for him, in which he tried to really labour the point and shove my head down, we went back to mine, but the sex was crap. He hadn’t brought condoms, had perved on girls when we were trying to find them, and he couldn’t get it up anymore. It was gone.

But the taste and the shudder of that orgasm standing up, still remains.

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