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Erich let the phone ring 3 times, taking a deep breath before picking it up. "Hello?" "Erich, it's Kirsten, I got your message thank you." her voice was filled with nervous energy. "Kirsten," he began, "How have you been - well, I hope." They traded small talk for 20 minutes both referring to their own scrapbooks and clippings they kept of each other's successes. Nothing about the castration. Erich stroked himself as he listened to this long-missed voice.
The awkwardness of the years gone by took hold and there was silence. "Can we have dinner?" Erich offered. "Yes, of course - where and when?" she countered. They met four days later at a small piano/bar/bistro 1/2 way between their residences. She in a red crepe de chine dress with her signature pearl bracelet and necklace. He in a navy blazer, white embroidered shit and tan trousers. So pressed and present. They greeted one another with a gentle kiss and hug, her hands holding his bearded face, her smile brilliant and tears welling in her eyes. "You look wonderful," he said to her. "You haven't changed a bit," she offered faintly. Over dinner they caught up on each other's news, eating slowing and drinking sparingly. Her green eyes sparkled at him in the candlelight. A song began to play from Camelot, " If ever I would leave you, it wouldn't be in..." He stood and offered his hand to her, "Would you like to dance?" "Certainly," she replied as she strode to him. Their bodies molded and moved as one as the words had their desired effect on the two lovers. He listened as she sang to him softly, "Oh, no not in springtime, summer, winter or fall, No never would I leave you- at all." They captured the imagination of the other patrons and when the dance ended, many applauded and others envied their seductive oneoness. She curtsied to him as he escorted her back to the table. Kirsten's face was flushed, feeling him so near, and his hardness as he held her so close. He was once again captivated by her simple beauty and felt a sense of pride that no matter what -- her heart belonged to him - even though these many years of silence had occurred. Quietly, they walked to the dimly lit parking lot. Kirsten finally spoke up. "Erich, I take it you are desiring the castration." "Yes," he answered "But with you. It has been our pact." "I want you, Kirsten, I want you NOW!" he said emphatically, spinning her around so that she was only an inch away. "Erich, I want you too, I always have, but not tonight. It's been too long and I'd like to savor the evening and hope that we can begin again." It was killing Kirsten to turn down a night of what she knew would be incredible passion, but she held her ground despite weak knees and a wet pussy. They kissed solidly for minutes, tongues exploring, her head tilted to one side, as his hand carressed her once again familiar breasts and nipples, making them hard and jutting against her crepe dress. Her fingers found his balls and she cradled them lovingly, feeling him grow harder and fuller. "I'll call you," he murrmurred - "tomorrow". "Yes, please," Kirsten could barely utter the words. Both tingled and relived the bewitching evening on the ride home. They dove into their separate beds eighty miles apart, aching and longing for the release that only masturbation and fantasy can achieve. She longed for his balls inside her, pressing into her walls, his thumb strumming her engorged clit. He wished for her to take him within her mouth, capturing his balls with a strong clutch, toying with them, licking them and praising them as he expelled volumes of cum that he saved for her to lap and put in her morning coffee. She tossed and turned, continually falling to the side of the bed on which he had once slept and cajoled her to sit on his face so that he could lick her and bring her to total submission. Making her climax than any woman could rightfully bear. They both saw to it that orgasm came, filled with fantasy, lust and desire, however empty as there was no holding or tenderness afterward or gentle kisses and gazing. A restless night for both until the sweetness of sleep blessed them and fell upon them. The black rose was losing petals and wilting. Kirsten's resolve was to keep it, perpetrate it and hold onto it for as long as possible. TBC
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