erotica podcast: how far would you fly to make love to your former high school sweetheart

Listen to our new erotica podcast here or on Spotify. If you prefer to read erotica, scroll past the podcast to start your journey. 

happy erotica-ing.


I never thought of myself as much of a risk-taker. But this? This was very, very different. Let me tell you the story of the first time I truly made love.

It wasn’t even three months ago that I got up for some water at midnight only to see a text from a random Texas number. It read, “How’s life? What’s new? You’ve been on my mind and I wanted to catch up…”

Perplexed, I searched my memory bank for who this could be. A Texas number? I didn’t have any exes in Texas… except for one. Oh, there was definitely one.

Sam and I were high school sweethearts. Two lost souls who had found each other in my ninth grade English class at Catholic school. In the height of my grunge phase, when Gwen Stefani was my everything, he found my number in the school roster and called me on a random Monday night. Landline, no cell phones. It was instantaneous with us.

1996 was a good year! It was the year that I could ride in cars with boys and wear grown-up, string bikini panties like my older sisters. Sam was my first real love. He also happened to be the first boy to give me an orgasm. Granted, I knew how to bring myself to orgasm quite well. I’d been doing that since the age of 8.

Sam was enamored of me. Why? I will never know. I was a bratty, insecure tease, but deep down, I was enamored of him, too. Being with him was the first time I remember feeling truly beautiful in the eyes of a boy. Not just because he wanted to ravage me, which he did, but because Sam looked at me differently than any other boy did. Still, to this day, I don’t think a man has quite looked at me like Sam did.

We spent our time together doing nothing and we did nothing so well. We were best friends, but with a sexual tension between us that was inexplicable, magnetic, kismet.

Late one Friday night, we escaped a high school party early to his older sister’s house. She was out of town that night and the house was empty except for one lamp that was turned on in her living room. He showed me around before he pulled me into him and kissed me for the first time. I didn’t know this type of feeling like that before and certainly not after. He laid me out on his sister’s couch and I opened my legs to him, guided his head down to my pussy as he pulled my white string bikini panties with white hearts to the side, and felt his tongue taste me for the first time.

I’d never had a boy’s mouth on my pussy before. The most innocent and the first desire I had with a boy was to have him spread my labia apart so I could feel his tongue deep inside me, devouring me, inhaling my sweet, young sex. Sam was my best friend, and all I wanted was to open my legs wider and wider to him, to let him have me. His legs hanging off the arms of the couch and his head between my spread thighs, he taught my body how to come this way and brought me to my first eye-watering, hip-rolling, out-of-body orgasm… ever. Sam was the first to do this and something about me could just never let him go. 

It could only have been him. He had a sarcastic, hard, outer shell that covered a deep-feeling man who was a closeted romantic for the right girl. I was his girl. Always had been his girl. We’d had a series of push and pull that ultimately pulled. I didn’t want to be apart, but in a world where insecure teenagers made stupid decisions, I pushed him away. The last time I saw him, I was 17, he was 19. We spotted each other at a party my senior year. Both of us concealed our desire to come closer. I left the party that night with a chip on my shoulder and my ego raring her pretty little head.

The day I got married in 2008, I thought about Sam — whether I should be marrying him, where he was, who he was with, how his mom was. When someone asked who my first love was, Sam was always the one.

“Sam!” I replied to his text. My heart raced in anticipation of his response.

The last I’d heard of him, he’d gotten married. Happily ever after, living in some big house, living the dream. Everything seemed so perfect from the outside.

“We would have at least 20 kids by now!” he typed back.

My heart skipped a beat, or two. How could this be happening? I thought to myself. Wasn’t he married, happy, kids, dogs?

“You have always been in my thoughts, throughout the years. I often wonder what you are doing, what your days are like, what your friends are like and hell, just what you’re like now.” His curiosities continued to pour out of him. 

A flurry of emotions came rumbling back to the surface. It had been 25 years of feeling an imaginary thread between us, connected by some wordless, soulful tie that neither one of us could explain.

I don’t remember much between that first text and now, but somehow I got on a plane and found myself stepping into the lobby of a famous Austin hotel on Congress Street. My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my toes and my cheeks flushed as I scanned the lobby for his face, one I would know in any crowd. Without even spotting him, I suddenly felt him behind me.

I turned slowly to see Sam’s frame over me, his eyes gazing right into me like a shining beacon of light. He was taller than I remembered, older, wiser, man-er than what I remembered. But it was my Sam.

I dropped my bags and we walked to one another. I stared into his eyes, a kaleidoscope of blues that echoed back the tears I felt welling up. He felt it too. I don’t know if it was two seconds or two minutes that we stood there and took each other in but it was as if time stood still. He took my face into both of his rough, masculine hands and looked at me. 

The lobby bustled around our levitating bodies and onlookers peered at us with wonder and sweetness as they realized what was happening.

He brushed my hair from my face and pulled me into his chest — a chest he didn’t have as a boy, but had as a man now — and wrapped his arms around me. Robust, engulfing, safe. For the first time in over two decades, it felt like I was walking in the front door of a home I’d never known I had. He pulled away, only so I could feel his mouth on mine, and poof! 

There it was. The electricity, the swoon, the validating full-body yes that came through me was everything I needed to know in answer to the questions I’d asked for 25 years.

Sam checked us in. We’d decided to get two rooms. Yes, because it was the classy thing to do, but it was also the most practical. After all, we were in our forties now. A lot had changed, from our lifestyles, to our preferences, to our bodies, to how we lived our days. I didn’t want to assume we’d just hop in bed and have raging hot sex from the jump. We weren’t young kids anymore. We knew that when we met, this thing would be real and I think we both needed the option of an out in case things went south. But that kiss! That kiss!

“I’ll give you some time to settle in and freshen up,” Sam offered.

I grinned, still overwhelmed by seeing him again, feeling him again. “I’ll give you some time, too,” I said.

I gently pulled my fingers away from the interlock they’d been in with his fingers on the ride up in the elevator, but he pulled me back into him.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered as he stared deep into my eyes and kissed me outside my room. “How about I go grab us a bottle of wine and I’ll be back in 20 minutes or so. We can just take it slow. I made reservations down the street for tonight.”

I nodded and entered my room.

After setting my bags down, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window overlooking the capital building. A stunning view, an unimaginable reunion. I put my hand over my mouth in disbelief that Sam and I were together once again after all this time. I didn’t want to rush things but I could also feel a fire building inside of me. Something so much more than a physical attraction, a soul attraction, a primal attraction to the man who’d occupied brain space all these years. 

I drew a hot bath and trickled in the fragrant, French bath oil provided by the hotel. The bathroom filled with a plume of floral vapor as I settled into my bath, pulling my long curls up into a high bun. Something in me relaxed so deeply. I didn’t need to perform for this man, make it perfect or be perfect for him. I simply needed to be and be with him. I propped one leg out of the suds and dragged a brand new razor up the length of my shin to reveal a smooth sheen.

After shaving both legs and bathing the airplane air off of me, I wrapped my Stroke of Midnight Kimono Robe around my wet body and let my hair down to comb it out. The wide silk sleeves of the kimono hung down with a certain level of elegance. The rich, silky sheen bundled around my waist, secured by a delicate silk tie draped around my body like an opulent birthday present. As I peered into the mirror at the 40-year-old me who looked back, I couldn’t help but also see me at 15; the me I was when I knew Sam. The me Sam loved before life humbled both of us back into each other’s lives.

There was a knock on the door and when I opened it, Sam stood there with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bucket of ice in the other.


I giggled and let him in.

Sam poured a glass of wine and handed it to me as I sat cross-legged on the bed across from him and suddenly it was as if no time had passed at all. I took a sip that lingered on my lips before I tucked my bottom lip under my teeth to lick it off. I could feel the tension between us, desires swirling in the backs of our minds and my primal urge to pull him deep inside of me felt too real to know what to do with. I could have sworn he felt me feeling it too, because before I knew it, Sam extended his hand and lifted me off the bed and back into his arms.

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, Keeks.”

“I want you to be honest with me, Sam.”

“I’m just taking you in on this bed, with that robe draped around you, and all I want to do is make love to you, Kiki.”

My last memories were of him as a boy verging on adulthood with a strong disdain for fake people and a mad desire to be with me. 

I wanted to know what it felt like to let myself have him fully too. He took both our glasses and set them down as I pulled him into me once more and placed his right hand on my bare breast under my robe. He looked down at me with that look in his eyes and I knew it was all over. That was it. I was his. He was mine. I needed Sam inside of me, not just to fuck, but to finally make love for the first time in my life. 

Sam took my size DDD breasts into his palms and then into his mouth and sucked softly on each one of my nipples, opening my kimono robe to kiss around my bodice, ribs, licking the underside of each plump, milky handful, then back up to kiss my wet and ready mouth again. 

He turned me around and continued to peel down the kimono to reveal my naked body. I’d never stood so naked in front of a man like this without trying to perform or cover or please, but I stood fully in my body, revealed in the most wholesome way. His eyes took me all in. I watched him, as he unbuttoned his jeans, took his cock in his hand and sat in a chair.

I’d never seen his cock and now it seemed like the most perfect cock in the world. Lightly trimmed, semi-hard, girthy and the perfect length. I knelt in front of him as he relaxed his knees apart, and took him into my mouth. I inhaled deeply, smelling his essence — clean, musky, and the slightest note of pheromone. I drew his cock into my mouth slowly and pulled him all the way to the back of my throat so that his testicles rested firmly on my chin. 

I began to firmly glide my mouth from the base of his shaft to the very tip of his wet and leaking corona. I could taste his pre-cum and I wanted more. I swallowed the beads of his DNA on my top lip and continued to mouthfuck his beautiful cock until I couldn’t resist. I stood up as he pulled me onto his lap. My legs straddled his waist and I began to grind, skin-to-skin, on him. The moisture from his saliva-soaked hard-on glided between my rosy lips. I took one hand and guided him into me. The first time I’d had him inside of me. I felt myself falling, further and further into him. I kissed his neck and down to his brawny nest of chest hair as I lifted my hips up and down on his growing cock. My pussy growing more and more ready for him with each thrust, I kissed his mouth once more. 

Sam clutched the bottom of my ass and lifted me as he rose to stand. Walking to the bed with my whole body wrapped around his waist in a feral lock, he laid me down on my back so he could fuck me properly, the way a woman like me deserved. I lifted my legs in the air as he guided one of my feet to his face, my toes into his mouth. I threw my head back with pleasure as he suckled at my toes, caressed my calves, traced kisses down the length of my thigh and down to my pussy once more.

Sam placed his mouth over my swollen vulva and paused. He stared up at me with that look in his eye once more.

“I fucking love you, Keeks,” he murmurred with my pussy in his mouth while he began to lick my inner folds like he did another lifetime ago. 

“Make love to me, Sam.” 

He made his way back up to me so our faces touched and he entered me once again. Both of us, on the edge of tipping over into the blur of ecstasy, together this time. I felt him thrust into me, filling every inch of me. His hip bones grinding into the tender parts of my inner thighs, I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him into me even more deeply, his face telling me that I was taking him completely out of control and into orbit. My neck craned up to kiss him, my engorged clit stroked against his pelvic bone.

“Come inside of me, Sam.” 

I loved this man. I felt safe with this man. I trusted this man. 

And he did exactly as I asked. 

As I gazed up at him, convulsing on top of me, our sweaty, sticky bodies, my forehead buried in his chest hair, he filled me so entirely. My vagina contracting around his erupting cock, I released an uncontrollable moan of euphoria against his lips, kissing him once more; my tongue lingering on his lips.

Sam would never be the man who’d get up and leave me after making love, and of course he didn’t. He stayed inside of me far longer than any man had. I wanted him to stay inside of me forever. He laid on top of me, transferring our lingering orgasm back and forth to each other. He brought me down slowly with tender kisses pressed against my skin, along my collarbone, up my neck and back again. 

“I guess we won’t be needing that other room.” He spoke the obvious and we both laughed.

I knew Sam had always loved me, but part of me fell back in love with me, too, after all those years. It’s funny how someone’s love for you can make you love yourself even more. 

Some peoples’ kinks are more taboo, but mine? My kink was much more wholesome and simple. After being married to the wrong man, getting divorced, being single, and dating, you start to understand just how taboo falling in love with the right person actually is. That was the night I knew that making love was definitely my naughty little kink. 

P.S. Follow our Lunatic Femme podcast for more yummy erotica coming in hot.

xxx, Lunatic Femme

erotica-ready, luxury lingerie for your next role play date

prep for your erotica with sex tips + inspo

We've paired every piece of Lunatic Femme lingerie with erotica to inspire your mood. Follow us on spotify podcasts to listen and/or read along in the playbook.

katie henricks erotica

katie henricks

katie henricks is a sex, relationship and intimacy coach whose long list of talents includes writing erotica, female empowerment and feminine body movement.