We’d been lovers in college and it was a deep and passionate affair. It started soon after we met, in the Student Union bar in the first term. I was immediately attracted to her – both physically and mentally. Her rich voice and warm laughter had filled the room and I had engineered a meeting. I hadn’t known she was bi-sexual – hell, back then I hadn’t known that I was.

As the first few weeks turned into a month, we had become close. After a particularly late party at a friend’s, it had seemed pointless for me to catch a cab to the other side of town. We had slipped into a sexual relationship effortlessly. Yet it was kept casual – and only our closest circle knew the exact nature of our affair. To most we were just the best of mates – hugging and holding hands as many of our “straight” friends did.

We both had other sexual liaisons – with both men and women – and there was never any jealousy. That was until I met the man who, only a few years later, I would marry and set up home with. They took an instant dislike to each other. He was not good enough for me, and she was a loudmouth who thought she owned me.

Feeling trapped, I ended it. It was simpler. College was coming to an end, and it was easier to slip away – no long goodbye, no argument and no tears.

A little over ten years later, we met up again. In a bar, we bonded again instantly – just as we had all those years before. Her laugh and conversation dragged me in once again. Now it was not just me in a long term relationship. She had a long-term partner – again a man. However, the chemistry was there and it was inevitable that we would slip once more into each other’s arms – and beds.

I visited her home – passing it off to my husband as a reunion with other friends. We did go out for the evening with a group from college, and had drunk rather too much red wine, by the time we staggered in a little after 2am. Her partner was away for the weekend – a situation that I was later to discover had been carefully planned.

As I sat on the couch in her living room, she entered with another glass of red wine. I took a sip and then placed it on the coffee table, and turned to face her. She had sat very close to me and I could smell her; her perfume, her hair and her body.

I couldn’t say which of us made the first move towards the kiss – it happened almost simultaneously. Her lips pressed against mine and we slowly began to explore one another again. She wrapped her arms behind my back, and slowly pulled me towards and then on top of her. I opened my eyes to see her staring intently at me. I ran my fingers through her long hair, slowly stroking it out, free from the bands that had held it carefully in place all night.

I started to kiss her neck and then started to unbutton her blouse. Through her silky bra, I could see her already erect nipples. I delicately took one into my mouth and slowly traced around it with my tongue. Her fingers were now in my hair, and I heard a slow, low moan escape from between her lips.

I gently eased her breast out of the bra cup, and took it full in my mouth, flicking at her nipple, making her groan once more. As I did this, her hands began to explore, reaching under my top, and expertly unclasping my bra. She pushed her hand underneath, and I felt her start to gently massage my breast, playing with my nipple, as it got harder than it had for years.

I could feel myself starting to get wet and moved her hand down towards the top of my trousers. She pushed underneath them, and I gasped as she started to skilfully rub my clit. At this point I straddled her properly – allowing her a free reign, and also ensuring that I could move my fingers to ensure that she would receive the same amount of pleasure as I was.

She had worn a long skirt out, and I began to pull it through my legs, until I finally exposed her tiny white cotton panties. I pushed them to one side, and used my middle finger to part her already wet lips. I slowly started to massage her clit feeling her tense with pleasure beneath me.

I looked at her again, but now her eyes were closed, a tiny furrow of concentration on her brow. I kissed her on the lips, and then moved her hand away from me. I knelt before her and began to slowly kiss her legs – starting just above the knees.

As I kissed the tops of her inner thighs, I heard her moan again. She lifted herself off the sofa as I gently pulled away her panties, and started to kiss her mound of pubic hair. I slowly parted her, and used my tongue to continue the massage that had been started with my fingers.

With one hand she continued to play with my hair, occasionally grasping as small pre-orgasmic waves rolled over her. With the other, I knew, she would be playing with one of nipples – it had always been what she enjoyed.

She was getting wetter by the second, and moved her legs over my shoulders so that she could begin to rock back and forth – into and away from my tongue. I knew that she was close to orgasm, and used two fingers to enter her. She came almost immediately – shouting and crying out loud. I could feel her internal muscles cramping and she continued to hold on as I finger-fucked her.

As her orgasm subsided, she looked down at me. I knew it was my turn. She pushed me onto my back, pulling my top over my head – taking the bra with it – and laying me on the carpet in her lounge. She lay on top of me, kissing me passionately, before taking my left nipple in her mouth, flicking it with her tongue, and occasionally sucking, ensuring that it remained as hard as was possible.

As she started to kiss my stomach, I felt my back arch into her. She pulled my trousers and already sodden knickers away, and as she manipulated my clit, she started to play once more with her own nipples. I was watching her – eyes fixated on her long hair cascading down over her shoulders and back, and her dark nipples against her pale skin. She was wetting her lips as her nipples became hard again and I watched her tongue trace the outline of her mouth.

Suddenly, the two fingers with which she had been rubbing my clit into a state of hardness entered me. I cried out loud and felt myself bucking involuntarily against them. I knew my orgasm could not be far away. I closed my eyes – hoping that depriving myself of the sight of her, would delay the inevitable.

As she continued to fuck me with her fingers, her thumb rubbed my clit and I finally heard myself cry out again – loud and long. My muscles tightened, and I lifted myself off the carpet, so that her fingers could reach as far inside me as was possible.

Just as the orgasm was slowing down, she withdrew her fingers and started to drink greedily from me – exciting me further, and bringing on a further orgasm, which started at the very bottom of my stomach, spreading throughout my body, until every nerve ending stood to attention.

As my peak died, she moved up to me and kissed me on the lips. I could taste myself, just as I knew she could taste herself. As she snuggled into me, and I pulled a throw from the settee on top of us – I knew that our reunions, although not frequent, would always be this intense.