She remembered, and her thoughts came randomly: how he had at first, kissed her and bit her lips gently, while caressing her back, and feeling tingles run up and down her spine; and then how he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her into him, so she could feel his heartbeat and mAke her breath quicken and she felt warm and safe; how she told him to stretch out on the bed, and she crawled over to him, mounting his erect cock with her mouth, and dropping down so that her mouth tasted his balls and her nose was buried in his fragrance; how she asked him to turn over so she could run her tongue around his anus and thrust it inside because she knew it would drive him crazy with pleasure and she found the taste slightly salty but delicious- just like every other part of him; how they lay together, arms and legs twisted, as she stretched her mouth up to his to engage in a deep, passionate kiss; how, while thrusting, it was so warm that his sweat mingled with hers and formed. I’d had no time to prepare, to steel myself for the impact she still had on me. I hadn’t even thought she might have an impact on me. We’d been divorced a little more than four years and separated four years and six months—give or take. It had been a long time since I’d seen her. I hadn’t bothered to go to the final court hearing and my attorney told me she hadn’t either. We hadn’t seen each other for a very long time. I was caught off guard by the fact she could still make my pulse race. I could recall exactly what it was that she’d done to me. That was never in doubt. I could summon vivid images and bring them into sharp focus. For a long time, I’d kept the printouts of the pictures I’d taken that night but I’d shredded them when I left for Afghanistan. I remembered the sense of relief and satisfaction I’d felt when they’d become just scraps in the bottom of a plastic canister beneath the shredder. But when I reached for the anger I’d felt back when I first found out about.
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