Head back to Talia's apartment to catch up on old times

The reunion dinner drew to a close in the blink of an eye, and we agreed that we still had way too much catching up to do before we called it a night.

Talia eagerly invited us to spend the rest of the evening at her place:

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times.”

Talia’s apartment was an eccentrically designed one-bedroom in a great part of the city—but with space at a premium, her living room was a bit small to accommodate six people (Elizabeth wound up sitting on my lap so that we could fit Stephanie on the couch beside us). The coffee table we huddled around was so tiny we hardly had space to set our drinks down.

Somebody brought out a cake and the women all sang “Happy Birthday” to me before each of them took turns giving me a very nice—albeit chaste—kiss on the lips.

“I really missed you guys,” I finally sighed.

It had been the better part of eight years since I had kissed anyone other than my wife, and it was more than a little bit of a thrill getting attention from so many beautiful women. It didn’t help that my wife’s exquisite butt—barely covered by the shimmery gold dress she had on—was rubbing against on my crotch every time she moved.

I swear that each of my old friends looked even more beautiful at 29 than they had at 18. They possessed a calmness and a confidence in the way they carried themselves that had been lacking in the **** years of high school.

Amy didn’t exactly have the same “hard body” that she’d fanatically honed throughout her teenage years, but she was still trim and curvy in all the right places, and her tight slacks proved that her famously terrific ass remained one for the record books. As an added bonus, Amy’s already sizable bust had filled out even more when Adam was born, making her nearly as stacked up top as our other friends were.

She wasn’t as chesty as Corrine, of course, who had reignited some of my oldest fantasies with the playful, scoop-neck dress she’d worn that evening. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing overtly slutty about the choice of outfit, but when a woman with tits like Corrine’s wears something with a low neckline, it’s nigh impossible to escape the gravitational pull.

Stephanie was done up that evening in a kind of retro, sixties style that really complimented her Hollywood good looks and pinup body. Her navy blue top was a turtle-neck, but it still stretched nicely over her prominent double D’s. I caught myself staring, trying to determine whether or not she’d worn a bra.

I had no such questions about Talia. She wore a red silk blouse, and her full, firm tits bounced around with glorious freedom beneath the fabric. Of all the women, Talia had changed her appearance the most since high school, cutting her long, raven hair into an edgy, short style and dying it to a dark metallic burgundy. Her lips, painted bright red to match her blouse, set my mind wandering, and I kept picturing her kneeling down between my legs, her head bobbing rhythmically up an down, smearing some of that red lipstick on my dick.

Still sitting on my lap, Elizabeth turned around and shot me a curious look, no doubt feeling the evidence my growing arousal beneath her. I tried to ignore her, turning my attention back to the others, but she leaned in close and whispered in my ear:

“Is it turning you on, seeing everyone again?”