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Memories are sweeter than candy.

As the evening wore on, with loads of laughter, alcohol, and smoke, we found ourselves sitting close together on the cramped sofa. My ride was leaving and asked me if I were coming. So softly, that I think I was the only who heard him, Darell said "You'd better stay." So I did.

Our hosts went up to bed, laughingly telling us that the other bed and the sofa were available and to take our pick After many scorching kisses and tender whispers, we headed for the bed and our first sex. I remember that I had a touch of the flu that weekend and was running a fever, but the heat between us was due to more than that. There was none of the first time awkwardness; we were just that good of a fit. I don't remember what was said that night, but when I woke in the morning, it was to find him leaning on one elbow and looking at me.

"Do you know you have the longest eyelashes I've ever seen?" he said.

Years later, when I underwent surgery to save my vision and all my eyelashes were cut off, I thought of him and that moment in bed.

I went back to my husband for another two year futile attempt at making our marriage work and Darell went back to Texas. He came to see us not long after my son was born, and we spent a little, innocent, time together. We discussed the likelihood of my marriage ending and his current chaotic love affair as we held hands like lost children. His hand felt like a lifeline to me.

It would be months before he resurfaced. Just as I began dating my second husband, I got a phone call at work one day.

"Hey... I hear you're single. I'm in town, when can we get together?"

"We can't. I'm seeing somebody ... and it's serious."

Had the call come a month earlier, he might have caught me in time. Too late for that, but we kept in touch sporadically for awhile, before losing contact once more.

Eight years later, my second husband left me for another woman and it was the single most devastating event of my life. I tried going out, but after almost throwing up on one of my dates, I withdrew and became a hermit in my own home, licking my wounds and attempting to reinvent myself. I was celibate for almost two years, no mean feat when you're at the highest hormonal peak of your life! I actually tried to contact him once, but Darell no longer worked at the last place I had the number for. A mutual friend was on the lookout for me though as he sometimes stopped in at the store where she worked.

I was cleaning the bathroom one afternoon when the phone rang. My daughter answered and came to fetch me. Pulling my head out of the toilet, I took the phone from her.

"Hello, stranger."

Although I had not heard his voice in six years, I knew who it was instantly. Fifteen minutes later, he was at my front door and meeting my children. Ironically, for the first time in our lives, I was the single one and he was married. He was living several hours away, but visited family in our hometown often.

I began hearing from him now and then, but things took a turn when he called on Christmas Eve to tell me he could not stop thinking of me. Down the slippery slope we went, and while I'm not proud of sleeping with a married man, I have no regrets. I felt loved and cherished and most of all, desired once again. We spent hours upon hours in bed, with as much time spent talking as in fucking. He was my safe entrance back into the world of men and sex and I reveled in our time together.

I had never met anyone who loved licking pussy as much as Darell did. He had no squeamishness in eating me out after sex, which astonished me. I had always been one to run for the shower or at least a quick wash up before oral sex, but he waved those anxieties away. In comparison to the sex I'd experienced with my second husband (affectionately known as the Minute Man), I was deliriously pleased with Darell's stamina. I soon learned what would push him over the edge though. If I'd roll my hips upward while he was pumping in and out of me, he'd groan and tell me to be still.

"Don't move that way, I can't t

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