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You never expect the “one who got away” to come back.

I’d had a wicked crush on Matt, who’d lived next door. We were both just starting our adult lives, and I finally got up the nerve to blurt out my feelings for him. He gently took my hand, told me he liked me, too, but said he was going off to college and didn’t think long-distance romances ever ended well.

I went home with a pain in my heart and an ache in my pussy. In the end, I suppose it was kind of comical. Young love is like that — especially the unfulfilled sort. In retrospect, I realized I should have just jumped his bones that night, even knowing it might be the one and only time for us. At least I would have that single fine fuck to remember him by.

Then, many years later, I learned he was coming back home. He would be living in the house next door again. His parents had left him the place, just like mine had with me.

Feelings for my old crush flared up in me once more, hot and needy. I felt like a girl again, even though I was much more sophisticated and worldly than I’d been back then. I had a career and the pick of just about any guy I wanted.

But part of me still wanted Matt.

Matt, however, didn’t come back alone. Matt had gotten married, and he brought his new bride to their new home, to live happily ever after, apparently.

After I heard about his wife from the neighborhood gossip, I went over with a welcome-wagon pie anyway. Of course, what I really wanted to do was to present Matt with my pie. I wanted to ride his, no doubt, luscious cock until I came screaming like a banshee. I wanted him to fuck me hard and jet his spunk into me. I wanted a payoff for all the time I had spent in my life pining for him.

“Jenny!” he cried when I showed up. He was as good-looking as ever, and my pussy twanged helplessly at the sight of him. But his wife was there, too, and he swiftly introduced us.

I had to admit: She was nice, and they seemed good together. I didn’t feel jealous, exactly. It was more like I just wanted to borrow her husband without doing anything to upset their marriage.

Yet during my visit, I caught Matt covertly looking at me with a passionate hunger. I started to settle on a plan.

It wasn’t too difficult to keep an eye on Matt’s house next door and wait for his wife to go out. She left one evening, and I crossed through my backyard to his and tapped on his back door. I was nervous and excited.

Matt came to investigate my knocking, and his jaw dropped when he saw me standing there. I shushed him, ducked in and shut the door. We gazed at each other in the little mudroom, the moment fraught with sexual tension.

“I still want you, Matt,” I said. That moment was quite different from when I’d blurted out my feelings to him long ago. I was a self-possessed woman now. Yet if he told me to leave, it was still going to hurt.

“Jenny…” he murmured. His eyes were bright with lust. I could see his slacks starting to bulge. “I can’t,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

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