As we leave the restaurant, Derek’s hand slips into mine. Because it’s dark out and the parking lot behind the Pearl is empty, I don’t pull away. Encouraged, he moves closer, his hip bumping mine. Then we’re at the car and he leans against the trunk, turning as his arm snakes around my waist to hold me tightly to him. His legs spread apart so I’m standing between them, his hands clasped on my lower back, our groins thrust together. Through the double layer of jeans, mine and his, I can feel the familiar hardness of his c**k pressed alongside mine.
Suddenly things between us seem to be rushing ahead, dragging me along for the ride. Yet, at the same time, this feels so right, being here in his embrace, clutched to him as if it hasn’t been twenty years since we last touched each other so int
