As adults in our 30s, our hookup felt modern yet dirty. You and I met online. Not like the twentysomethings in our teams at work whom were constantly swiping left and right, we met on a swingers site, it felt more deliberate. You had joined with the secret desire to be made to feel like the woman your ex-husband had never made you feel like and I had joined because the women I had met in my life were too vanilla for my tastes. I wanted more. You wanted more. Our paths crossed. A chat, flirty at first, became hotter as time went by and became a burning desire by both of us to meet. Neither of us had pictures showing our faces, but we had already connected on an intimate level, the way we responded to each other seemed natural and fulfilled each others desires. We shared our deepest fantasies. We seemed to click sexually. Long text sessions between us left us both flustered and whilst we had never spoken, we agreed to meet. You spent the afternoon nervously awaiting my arrival. You took a shower to try and clear your mind and relax but you couldn't, your left hand drifted between your legs and with an absent mind you gently touched yourself, the hot water cascasing down your body and your mind in another place, your fingers found that pleasurable place and you skipped a heartbeat as you thought about what may happen when I arrive. You breathe sharply and realise what you're doing, the anticipation makes your fingers work harder and you have to calm yourself, you say 'not yet' under your breath and forcefully take a squirt of body lotion and continue like it's a normal morning. You dress, lazily, panties, that you notice after putting on have a thread around the top stitching that's coming loose and you tug at it and walk to the kitchen to find some scissors but you've got no idea where they are, so you pick at it and tug, but in the end tuck it into the band so it's not noticeable, and a shirt, checked, blue and black, and cheap, of which your ex was nothing but, as you'd discovered since; the money he spent on self maintenance was disproportionate to the amount of money he spent on tacky V8 supercars memorabilia. You feel indifferent wearing it, there's no attachment and it may as well be nameless rags. You flick nervously between TV channels, it's early afternoon and predicatbly there's nothing on. A cooking show. A renovation show. A talk show. You flick back and forth and back again, then forth, then back again, not settling on any. You're nervous. I'm nervous. I'm nervous when I knock at the door. I'm nervous that I've come from work. I'm nervous that the suit I wore to work is too much. I had jeans in my bag but had left it too long and now here I was, outside your door, nervous, in a navy blue suit with a fine pin stripe that I had worried in the morning didn't match the shirt I was wearing. Inconsequential. You hesitated in answering the door and when you did, you only opened it a little ways, making sure you had that option in case you didn't like what you saw. You did, and felt embarrassed that the door wasn't open and I was standing there sheepishly and you stifled a nervous laugh. I grinned and said Hi, you laughed and opened the door for me, then realised you were still only in panties and a shirt and hopped back in case your neighbours saw you. You led me into your house and the first three minutes may as well have been three hours, time slowed as the initial awkwardness became apparent, finally we both laughed and you suggested we sit down. I sat down, and you sat closely, we chatted about nothing, mostly pleasantries before I started to lean toward you and after another awkward laugh between us, we kissed. You sighed happily and put your arms around my neck and pulled me closer. Our kisses were teenage, almost desperate, such was the unleash of sexual tension between us. You pulled at my shirt and I had to help undo the buttons. You saw my nipples were pierced, and laughing, made a playful tweak of them both, I laughed and was thankful you weren't more aggressive and kissed you harder. Your shirt came off quickly after and in that instant your ex was no longer a controlling part of your life. You pulled back and with a smile started tugging at my belt, I made a joke about whether you'd offer me a coffee or even a glass of water and you laughed and fumbled harder. It didn't take much and my trousers were undone and you reached for my hardness but I'd come to you so rejected your hand. I moved you sideways so that you are sitting on the couch and I was on my knees. You smiled, your legs moved apart and your hands slid from my shoulders to my neck to the back of my head, and you pulled me forward, toward you, your left hand moved and you held my head, pulled my glance to yours and then with your right hand you pulled the fabric of your panties aside...................