Catharsis Copyright 2001 / All rights reserved
By Alex Black
alexblack99@earthlink.net 


She pulled up in front of the red-roofed building and cut the pickup’s engine with a forceful sigh. Why the hell had she volunteered for this mission, she wondered. Sure, it got her out of the house, but she wasn’t sure that was even a good thing on a day like today, when, according to the
local radio announcer the mercury topped 98º. Her thin sundress clung to her skin and she felt beads of perspiration pop out on her forehead the second the truck’s a/c cut out.

Rummaging through her purse for a tube of lipstick, she applied a quick coat. As she rubbed her lips together, she scooped up the shopping list her dad had sent with her and scowled as she realized she didn’t know what any of the things were: joint compound, perfa tape, a rock saw?

Unable to stand the stifling heat any longer, she shoved the door open and 
slid out, grateful for the light breeze that ruffled her hair. Leaving her purse on the seat and the keys in the ignition, she slammed the door and started for the entrance. As the name spelled out in large white letters across the building’s façade caught her eye, she remembered why she hadn’t minded making a trip here.

The door swung open and a large, bearded, bearish man in a sweat-stained
Harley t-shirt held it to allow her passage, as he scanned upward from her feet to the hem of her short dress and grunted appreciatively before going on his way.

Standing just inside the door, she waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust as she tried to get her bearings, to figure out where to start. And then she saw him – but he didn’t see her yet, as he busied himself arranging a large stack of lumber. As she ducked out of view, she felt a flutter in her stomach, and took a few deep breaths to try and regain her composure.

This was his dad’s lumberyard, and she’d known he worked here to pay the bills, in spite of an increasingly successful career as a musician. They had a history, had dated for a while back in high school, but somewhere along the line things just fell apart and that’d been the end of it, no questions asked. Chalk one up to teenage angst, or whatever – but that had been a long time ago. They’d both moved on, no worse for the wear. Sure, every once in a while she’d heard a song, smelled a cologne, came across something that reminded her of him, but for the most part he’d been just a fragment of her storied past. As such, she wasn’t really sure where this schoolgirl giddiness had come from all of a sudden. She heard footsteps approaching – he must’ve heard the door – and stepped out into view again.

“What can I do – “ he trailed off in mid-sentence as he realized who his new
customer was. Recovering quickly, he reprised “Well, hello there. Been awhile, huh?” in a voice that was deeper than she had remembered. “What brings you out here?”

Lamely, she thrust the crumpled shopping list at him, unable to think of what to say – and he took the list, smiling in amusement as she stood there feeling awkward.

“O-kay… let’s see. Perfa tape. That’ll be over here,” he said, gesturing as he started toward a section of the store. Shaking her head and blinking  to break whatever spell had turned her into such a dope, she followed.

As she walked behind him, she couldn’t help but make mental notes of how he’ d changed since high school. First, there was the hair – he’d cut short the silky blonde hair she’d been so crazy about all those years ago. Of course, as styles had changed, that was really no surprise, and it looked great – but that hair had been a big part of the bad boy image that had pulled her in, and a part of her was sad to see it gone.

Moving down as they wound through rows of building materials, she eyed his tanned, muscular shoulders framed by the white tank top he wore, traced down to his narrow hips, to the butt that was just as perfect as she’d remembered it, showcased in just-tight-enough Levis. Sighing, she thought about how she’d –

“…or the inch and a half?”

“Huh?” she said, realizing she’d missed the important part of the question while caught up in her own little memory-lane world, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. “Um, I don’t know.”

“I’ll send the inch-and-a-half with you – if that’s wrong, just bring it back. Let’s see, joint compound…this way.”

Again, she followed, this time toward the rear of the building. Suddenly, he stopped and turned so quickly she almost ran into him, lost again. “You look really good,” he blurted. Relief washed over her – she’d been wondering if he would treat her like any other customer, to not even acknowledge whatever it was that they’d once had.

She smiled. “Thanks. So do you.”

Finding herself staring into his expressive eyes – nope, they hadn’t changed
either – she suddenly felt lightheaded, and swooned as he hooked an arm around the small of her back and pulled her into a warm embrace as he said
“Good to see you again.”

He still smells the same, she thought, as she melted into him, burying her face in the soft skin of his neck. And then she felt it, almost imperceptible at first, that old familiar charge that passed between them as it had long ago. Unable to fight it, and intoxicated by the heat of the day and by his scent, she lifted her head and caught his lips. She sensed an instant of hesitation and surprise before he returned her kiss, igniting her desire as it brought back a flood of old memories, frustration, and deeds left undone.

She pressed herself into him as he stroked her hair, then trailed his hand down her back and hip while his hungry mouth devoured hers. She moved down to cup his round buttocks in her hands and plunged her tongue into his mouth, and felt between them a hardness that hadn’t been there before.

After opening his eyes for a quick glance around the store, he was satisfied that they were alone. He hooked a hand behind each of her thighs and lifted
her up as he pressed her back up against a rack of 2x4’s, and she wrapped
her legs around his waist. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt, now without the fabric of her dress between them, the urgency of his cock as it strained for release from his jeans. With his weight holding her against the lumber, he brought a hand beneath her and touched her through her panties. She shuddered as he made contact, and moaned softly. He slowly rotated his hips against hers as he kissed her neck, her bare shoulders rubbing against the roughness of the wood behind her.

Moving her away from the boards now, he spun around in the aisle and sat her down on a short stack of gypsum wallboard panels. “Be right back,” he said, and disappeared; she heard the click of the front door’s lock and he returned, boyishly handsome face flushed. She’d wanted him so badly back
then, but they’d just been kids at the time, neither one experienced or bold enough to verbalize what they probably both had known even then.  He stood before her, with one hand working open his fly as he gave her a hard look, asking with his eyes if she was ready. Blinking slowly as she nodded her head, she quickly took off her panties and then demurely sat on the edge of the stack and pulled him closer. Tugging the waistband of his underwear down through his open fly, she bent forward to dip her tongue into
his belly button and then downward, reveling in the saltiness of the slight sweat he’d worked up. He dropped his head back and pushed his hips toward her, aching as she took his swollen cock into her mouth and sucked lazily, having waited years for this moment. She explored slowly, savoring the tastes and smells she’d experienced only in her imagination up until that point. Her tongue roamed up and down his length, darting around and under the head as he made soft, urgent sounds.

Removing her lips from him, she lay back on the wallboard and used her sandaled heels to push herself backward, making room for him between her legs. He sunk down and ran his tongue up the inside of one thigh as he pushed her dress up onto her belly. Feeling more exhilarated with each inch
he traveled, she let her knees drop apart, knowing she would come the moment he reached her burning clit. But instead, he quickly moved up and, propping himself on one elbow over her, he used his other hand to part her lips and drove inside her.

His penetration triggered a surge of emotion from deep within her, feelings and urges suppressed for years. She longed to understand what had gone wrong, ached to tell him how she’d been hurt when they’d fallen away from
one another. She’d assumed for far too long that she’d done something wrong, something to make him think she hadn’t been good enough for him to love, and that thought had gnawed at her even after she’d fallen in love with another and moved on. As he pumped his hips rhythmically into hers, the lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe, and she was surprised that someone she’d sworn she was over was able to pull this reaction from her. But the tide of the past continued to wash over her, insecurities and uncertainty, fear, confusion, self-loathing and despair, as he continued thrusting, oblivious to her inner torment.

Despite her raging emotions, his skill carried her to the precipice of climax and then nudged her in; as she came her breath tore from her in ragged sobs, her body racked by the intensity of orgasm and by the rhythm of her tears.

Surprised, he opened his eyes, stopping for a moment inside her. Wiping her tears with a callused thumb, he rested his hand on her cheek while he looked into her eyes. In that instant, she saw, understood, that he’d dealt with the same issues, just in a different way. She offered a weak smile, which he returned, and then pushed her hips upward to signal him to continue.

She came harder the second time, without the anguish and tears, and as she
did she felt his climax as well. He poured himself into her physically, as she’d wanted him to do emotionally in their past life, and she clung to him like a lifeboat in a stormy sea until she felt his body relax.

Raising himself away from her, he caught her gaze and asked, “You okay?”

Not sure whether they’d closed an old door or opened a new one, she replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Why didn’t we do this a long time ago??”

###

Alexandra Black lives, works, and plays in the gorgeous Rockies of Colorado.  She first became interested in the world of erotica at a very early age, but didn’t try her hand at writing the stuff until about 1989, with a poem she titled “Black Lace.” She believes that sexuality is central to human existence, and that respect and reverence for all things carnal are essential to happiness and health. Alex says, “The most beautiful aspect of erotic literature is that ultimately, it’s up to the reader to fill in the blanks, so any piece can be as personal as the imagination will allow.”