It was morning, and Liana had just woken up.

In Michael's arms....

He was still sleeping, but there was a little smile on his face and she knew he was dreaming. She idly hoped it was about her, reliving the previous night, but anyway, whatever the subject, it was obviously a sweet dream. She leaned up on her elbow and looked down on his face, then she bent and kissed his lips... smiling, and remembering.

She had waited for a long time to be in this position. She and Michael had first met seventeen years earlier at a college, where they were studying for university entrance. They had been attracted, instantly, and had got along well, but somehow had never managed to make the move from friends to lovers - one or other of them had always seemed to be involved with someone else. It had been understood that they fancied each other, that they loved each other dearly, that sometime they would get together, but events had conspired to keep them apart.

Michael stirred. His mouth opened, involuntarily. Taking the opportunity presented, Liana deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue between his lips, placing a hand along the side of his face.

The friendship had, inevitably, become distanced when she went off to Oxford, him to St Andrews, and further still after she had met the man she later married. Cards at Christmas and on birthdays, phone calls, occasional meetings when they both happened to be in the same place.

Michael still wasn't quite awake, but he responded nonetheless ... 'Mmmmmm' he murmured, and his tongue moved to meet hers, until they were entwined, their mouths locked together. His arms tightened round her, and she stroked his cheek, then ran the hand down his neck, caressing his ear with a fingertip as she passed it.

They hadn't met in eight years, until last night. In the time between, they had both matured, and changed, but there was something of the shock-haired boy left in him, something of the passionate, idealistic girl that he remembered in her. The attraction was still clearly there, and the empathy was as strong as it had ever been.

Next, her hand brushed down his chest, barely grazing the surface of his skin, and now there was no doubt he was awake. As her fingers closed around his stiff cock she lifted her lips from his for a moment to smile at him. "Good morning, Hon,' she said, as she stroked him, feeling him grow harder by the second.

He had sent flowers and called her when her husband had died in a car accident two years earlier, but had been living in Germany with his wife at the time, and hadn't managed to come home for the funeral.

"Morning lovely Li," he grinned at her, that wonderful, wide grin, that had always so entranced her, and grabbed her face, pulling her lips back down to his. This time the kiss was hard, bruising even, and he worked his leg between hers as she continued to stroke him. She could feel him smiling through the kiss as he discovered, with no surprise at all, how excited and aroused she was, feeling the dampness on his leg. She rubbed herself against him, stimulating her clit as she did so, getting wetter and wetter, sending him the message loud and clear 'God, how I want you...'

Then, yesterday, there had been the phone call, telling her that he was in town, that he and Brigitte had separated, that a divorce was on the horizon. "I'd love to meet you for dinner, Li," he had said, "it's been so long, much too long."

His hands were active now, caressing her, stroking her breasts and sides, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. Little, quiet whimpering moans, almost, but not quite, inaudible, escaped her throat as he touched her. His grin widened as he relished the effect he was having on her. He pushed his second leg between hers. Smiling, she slid over until she was straddling him, leaning forward and kissing him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hand still stroking his cock.

She had agreed, of course, not only because she wanted to see him, though of course she did, but also to hold the aching loneliness that was her life since Marcus had died at bay for one evening. And so they had met, and as he had hugged her tight, and told her he'd missed her, she had gasped at the pleasure of being held again, by someone who cared, and he, hearing the gasp, had kissed her. They never did get round to having dinner.

'Do you want me?' she whispered. He nodded, and she positioned herself over him. At first, she started to slide on slowly, but he put his hands on her waist and pulled her down hard as he thrust upwards. She gasped as he filled her, suddenly, wonderfully.

They had come home, to her flat, a small cosy place, nothing like the spacious house that she had lived in with Marcus, the place that she had moved into to escape from his constant presence around the place. And they had talked of everything that had happened since they last met - the break up of Michael's marriage, Marcus' death, and when Liana had cried, Michael held her close until the tears were over, then gently dried her eyes.

She moved on him, pressing hard against him, pressing down as he pressed up, meeting each movement of his body with one of hers, climbing inexorably to a climax. He felt her coming and pulled her head and body down so he could kiss her, stifling any noise she might make with his mouth.

"I wish I'd been here for you then," he had said. She smiled at him. "There was nothing you could have done," she told him. "I was distraught, inconsolable. It still hurts, of course, but it's easier now." He had taken her hands and looked into her eyes. "Is there something we can try now?" he asked, "something we can do for each other?" And he kissed her again, and she responded.

They were locked together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, his cock buried deep inside her cunt, moving as one person. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as he kept thrusting, holding her tight on to him - as if she could possibly want to be anywhere else. She could feel his orgasm building as every movement pushed him deeper inside her and she eagerly moved with him, wanting him to share in the incredible sensations she was feeling. She was trembling all over, loving fucking him, loving him, until finally he came, driving in hard one last time, leaving her shuddering with delight.

"I've been so lonely," he went on as the kiss broke apart. "But it's more than loneliness Li. As soon as I heard your voice today, I remembered that I'd always loved you. And as soon as I saw you I remembered all the hours I'd spent fantasising about fucking you in my teens. I want you. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and make love to you, and to make everything right for both of us. Let me take you to bed Liana, now." And she had smiled, leaned forward, and kissed his lips lightly. "Please," she said, "I'd like that." And so, here they were.

And now, the passion spent for a little while, there was time for tenderness... They lay, side by side, their bodies still joined and she looked into his eyes. With a wondering smile, she said, 'I love you,' as she traced every contour of his face, first with her fingers, and then with her lips. "I think part of me always has."

He held her close, so wonderfully close, safe within the haven of his arms. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming them. "We should have done this so long ago," he murmured, "just think of all the years we've missed..."

She placed a finger on his lips, shushing him, shaking her head. "If we had, I would never have had Marcus, and you would never have had your kids," she replied. "This isn't a time for regrets, Mike, it's a time to celebrate. Goodness knows, the last twenty-four hours have given us cause enough for celebration."

He grinned. "Oh, I'd not argue with that love. And so much to look forward to..." And with that, he kissed her again, and again, and in time, they celebrated, just a little more...

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