Mike’s doorbell rang just as he was about to crack open a cold beer. He wasn’t expecting anyone—certainly not after two decades of radio silence. He hesitated, fingers lingering on the bottle’s wet glass, before he forced himself off the couch. He opened the door, and there she stood.
Trista.
Not the awkward, braces-wearing girl from high school, but a woman who had clearly spent the last twenty years taking good care of herself. Her dark hair was shorter now, framing a face that had matured into something dangerous—sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that still held the same mischievous spark he remembered. She wore a black leather jacket over a tight white tank top, her jeans hugging every curve. Mike’s breath hitched.
“Mike?” she said, smirking. “Holy shit. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Trista,” he managed, voice rough. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She stepped inside without waiting for an invite, brushing past him with a scent of vanilla and something darker, muskier. Mike’s cock twitched. “I was in town for a job interview,” she said, tossing her jacket onto the back of his couch. “Thought I’d see how you’ve been.”
Mike shut the door, his mind racing. He’d jerked off to the memory of her more times than he could count back in the day. Now she was in his apartment, looking like every wet dream he’d ever had.
Trista circled the room, running a finger along the edge of his bookshelf. “Still into the same shit, I see,” she said, nodding at the collection of sci-fi novels. “You always did have a one-track mind.”
Mike swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
She turned, her gaze locking onto his crotch before sliding back up. “What do you think?”
Before he could answer, she closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his. Her lips crashed into his, hot and demanding. Mike groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him. She was softer than he remembered, but firmer too—toned, strong. His fingers dug into her ass, squeezing as she ground against him, her hips rolling in slow, teasing circles.
Trista broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, her nails raking down his chest. “God, you’ve filled out,” she purred, her hands sliding down to his belt. She undid it with practiced ease, her fingers brushing against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans.
Mike gasped, his head falling back. “Fuck, Trista—”
She dropped to her knees in front of him, her fingers making quick work of his zipper. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking. Trista licked her lips, her eyes dark with hunger. “Still hung like a fucking horse,” she murmured before wrapping her fingers around his shaft and taking him into her mouth in one smooth motion.
Mike’s hips jerked forward, his fingers tangling in her hair. Trista hollowed her cheeks, sucking him deep before pulling back to swirl her tongue around the head. She moaned around him, the vibration sending a shudder through his body.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, his thighs trembling.
Trista pulled off just long enough to smirk up at him. “You always did like my mouth.” Then she took him back down her throat, her fingers playing with his balls as she worked him with her lips and tongue.
Mike couldn’t hold back. His hips stuttered, his cock twitching as he felt his orgasm building. Trista must have sensed it too because she pulled back, stroking him with her fist as she looked up at him. “Gonna come?” she asked, her voice rough.
“Yeah,” Mike grunted, his breath ragged.
She grinned, then leaned forward and took him back into her mouth, her hand working the base of his cock as she sucked him hard. Mike’s vision whited out as his release hit him, his cock pulsing as ropes of cum shot down her throat. Trista swallowed every drop, her throat working around him as she milked him for all he was worth.
When she finally pulled back, Mike was a panting, trembling mess, his legs barely holding him up. Trista stood, licking her lips before pressing another hard kiss to his mouth. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it made his cock twitch again.
“Your turn,” she said, her voice a dark promise as she started unbuttoning her jeans.
Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He helped her shimmy out of her pants, revealing a pair of black lace panties that did nothing to hide how wet she was. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and yanked them down, groaning at the sight of her bare pussy, glistening and already swollen.
Trista kicked the panties aside and spread her legs, her fingers parting her folds. “You remember how I like it?” she asked, her voice husky.
Mike dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs. “Fuck yeah, I do.”
He buried his face between her legs, his tongue flicking over her clit. Trista moaned, her hips bucking against his mouth. Mike groaned against her, the taste of her driving him wild. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them as he sucked her clit into his mouth.
Trista’s breath came in sharp gasps, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Mike—oh fuck, just like that—”
He worked her harder, his fingers pistoning in and out of her tight cunt while his tongue lashed at her clit. Trista’s thighs trembled around his head, her moans growing louder until she was crying out, her body shuddering as her orgasm crashed over her. She flooded his mouth with her cum, her hips grinding against his face as she rode out her pleasure.
When she finally pulled back, her chest heaving, Mike wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gr