Back in high school my wife was a tomboy. Plain, flat, awkward, no make-up or fancy clothes. Tall, her legs too long for the rest of her body. Not the kind of girl who got any "boy action" in the 1970's. The one thing she had was basketball. Being 6 feet tall and very competitive she became captain of the team and an all area center. But lonely. No boy action. No homecoming dances, no proms, no making out with a boy in the backseat of the car at the drive in during a movie.
He was the "All American Boy." Captain of the boys basketball team. Drop dead good looking. A date with a different cheerleader every weekend. They all fell at his feet. They all became his conquests. He was her crush. She wanted him and no other. But she knew, he was way out of her league. He never gave her the time of day.
I liked tomboys. I liked her. Her long legs, her flat chest, her jet black hair, her milk white skin. And what did I like the most about her? She didn't have other boys' handprints all over her breasts. She would be mine and only mine. I persuaded her. Watched her games. Cheered her on. Talked to her. Walked her to class. Carried her books. We became high school sweet hearts. After college, we married. I'm the only man to ever see her naked. The only man she ever slept with. That would change before 2020 came to an end.
We built a good life. Great careers, big house, money in the bank, wonderful kids. But there was always something missing. We were always more like friends had lovers. It was him that she always wanted. He was the only boy who could make her fall apart. I wondered how she would react if we ever saw him again. I got my answer at our 25 year high school reunion.
The 25 year reunion changed everything. He was still the most popular guy there. But everything else changed. The cheerleaders he dated were all fat and wrinkled. Their football star husbands all bald and fat. The homecoming queen he danced with looked sad and lonely. It was all so boring until she walked in with me. The tallest woman there. The black dress that covered her to the neckline, but was V cut all the way down to the top of her ass. And her ass... Tight and firm from years of playing pick up basketball with the men on her block. Her body slim from her 3 workouts a week in the club. Her face soft and relaxed from the yoga class we took together. If was as if the world stopped when we walked in. People stood still. The music stopped. All eyes were on her. The tomboy had become the most beauiful classmate of them all.
I admit it. I looked for him. I wanted to see the look on the face of the guy who did not give her the time of day in high school. He did not disappoint me. I loved the look on his stuck up face. Eyes bugged out. Mouth wide open. He could not take his eyes off the girl he never gave a second look to. As we walked to the bar it was as if the Red Sea parted. The tomboy who could not get a date was the center of attention 25 years later. He tried to stay away. Tried to pretend he did not notice. But every time he talked to another, his head turned to her. Her milk white skin. Her jet black hair now peppered with gray. Her basketball legs that he never looked at twice. Oh how I enjoyed the way he looked at me. The "you are so lucky" look on his still handsome face. As hard as he tried he could not stay away from us. He walked over and said hello. And my wife fell apart all over again. She blushed, tripped on her words, spilled her drink. As I watched them talk I could not deny one simple fact. After all these years, she still was not over him. I was her friend, but it was him that she wanted. He knew it too. I could tell by the sly smile that appeared on his face. It was the same smile he would get in high school when he told the team which cheerleader he had a date with, and what he planned to do to her in the back seat of his car.
She when to talk to her friends. Just me and him now. He got be drinks. Talked to me like we were the best of friends. Told me how lucky I was to have her. How dumb he was to never have asked her out. I loved it. She was mine, not his. Or so I thought. From across the room, she still could not take her eyes off of him. I know that look. She bit her lip. I knew it was still him she wanted.
She came back and we talked the night away. She blushed all night. Hung on his every word. Before we knew it it was 3am. He gave me his card and said we must keep in touch. I said that we would. We when home to our big house in the burbs. She fucked me like I was him. He went up to the homecoming queen's room, and fuck her as if she was my wife. I laid in bed and watched her sleep. I knew she would want to see him again.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than avataransk.ru
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:
<a href="//avataransk.ru/exquisiteslave/stories/wife-lovers/-her-high-school-crush-the-25-year.aspx"> Her High School Crush; The 25 year reunion. </a>