Written by Slipperysam
The Meeting Chapter One
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46 minute read
She had been waiting for this, for over a week now, and now for another half an hour on top of that. He was inconceivably late.
How could he be late after they had set the date over a week ago? He must be looking forward to it as much as she was, surely. After all of the teasing, the emails, the to and fro of escalating interest, the increasingly revealing self-portraits emailed across the ether, the words beginning with casual banter, each line reaching further inward, exploring their needs and desires ever more explicitly, eventually rising to the realisation of both of them that the words would no longer do, that they had reached the limit of ability to satisfy, leaving them both insatiable with lust and curiosity.
They would meet, press their hot flesh together, putting meaning to those words that they had shared. It was the only way. She felt it, and she knew he did too. How could he be late!
The last hour had been exciting for her. His instructions were explicit, and she had followed them to the letter. She had been in her dressing gown, a dreary covering for her colourful bra, tiny knickers and for the tightly stretched sheer thigh length tights, sitting on the edge of the sofa, clock watching for nearly an hour now. She now regretted getting ready so early, a folly of having the entire day off with this as the only appointment. It seemed like the right thing to do when she was planning it, don’t be rushed, take plenty of time to get ready so you are early. But now the anticipation, building to an almost intolerable crescendo and indeed almost surpassing it, was almost excruciating. For the briefest moment, she considered calling him, calling it off, how could he leave her hanging like this, but the thought passed as quickly as it appeared, overcome by the moment.
She had considered slipping her hand inside her underpants, and relieving some of that tension, that delicious anticipation, but at the same time she wanted to be ready, full, unsatisfied, untouched when he arrived, fully ready to surrender to him. An hour earlier, she had brushed her breasts, stroked them along their long curve to the point of her nipple while watching herself in the mirror just before she, reluctantly, placed them snugly in her bra, something she had never done before whilst just getting dressed. It was almost too much. The flushing blood immediately made her pupils bloom and her pussies warm folds heat with desire. The familiar scent of her readiness to be lain asunder, that smell of her body in expectation, which always came just before being breached by her lover, filled the air and almost overpowered her. She could have easily closed the door, lay back on the bed and satisfied herself then and there, in the bedroom half dressed, made up with only foundation.
But this day was different. This day she would not give in to her whims. This day the expectation was so high, why spoil the exquisite, sumptuous, heady feast of debauchery and sin that was promised to her with such a meagre snack.
Oh, why isn’t he just here! She let her eyes do that same dance for the hundredth time, looked at the door, the driveway, the clock once more! Hurry up!
He was frustrated. The traffic. The road works. The supposedly quick stop at the store. His brain was in such a heady haze of desire and anticipation after he walked out of the store that he had to hurriedly return after only getting a few minutes up the street. Condoms. How could he forget condoms!
Pausing at the last intersection before her house, he stopped the car and tried his best to collect his thoughts. He was already late but he needed to collect himself. Calm down, he told himself. He drew in deep breathes, blowing them out long and directed, like a child trying to cool a hot dinner he could wait no longer for. He looked in the mirror, studying himself as if it was the first time he had seen his reflection. His eyes passed from his eyebrows to his hair, down his face to his nose, his mouth. So imperfect. What will she thinks when she sees me, he thought. I should be in better shape. I should have better hair. Is my breath sweet? Is my after shave too strong? Too many thoughts scattered through his mind. Should I text her, tell her it’s off, put it off for another day, I could say I am sick or something. Reflecting, he realised that he did indeed feel unwell, the tight knots in his stomach had prevented him from eating that morning, and were now beginning to be more than just uncomfortable, inconvenient.
Don’t be stupid! She has seen you! She has made the effort and so should you! He rallied himself, decided to ignore the mirror, started the car and turned into her street. His heart sped up to an alarming rate, he could hear the blood rushing past his ears.
She stood as soon as she heard the car turn into the driveway. Shows on. No time for thinking now. She could see him leave his car, search for the door and begin the walk toward it. Her heart leapt as she waited, just long enough for him to reach it and knock.
She smoothed down the gown, feeling its texture through perspiring fingers, and went to him. She revealed him with the sweep of the door, standing upright and meeting her eye. They stared at each other for the briefest second. She said hello and brought him inside by motioning with an elegant, practised gesture. He could smell her as he came through, intoxicating, hinting of promise. She watched him walk through, noting his confident step and brandished flower. He turned to her, offered up the flower which she accepted, smelled and smiled. There was no need for words. They looked up on each other, somehow familiar with each other as if they had met many times before, the nerves were vanishing from them both, familiar comfort set in, relaxing, calming. Feeling his erection swelling, watching her eyes show her intention, her desire, he stepped forward, raised his hands to her hips and leaned in toward her. She closed her eyes, their lips met for the first time. Both comfortable, experienced in this, now suddenly at ease, their slightly parted mouths caressed each others, the slightest movements of each to begin with, the first breath amidst the kiss seeming to last the ages. She put her arms up to his shoulders, drew him in so slightly. He obliged her, sliding his hands across the curved small of her back, feeling the energy coming from her and letting it wash over him. Their scents entwined, each breath now filling them both with each other as they breathed each other in. Their kiss and embrace enlonged, breath after breath, their tongues mutually engaged, exploring, provoking, enquiring. Time passed without notice. The moment they had both longed for had come, and all of its promises so far were fulfilled. She could feel his hardness pressing her through her gown, his shoulders strong as she held them, closer, closer. She slid her hand down his back and gave herself fully to the kiss, dreaming, embracing, all consuming. She could feel the warm moisture of her womanhood welling up inside, swelling, heating. The kiss went on, both enraptured, swept up in its timeless beauty. He could feel her breasts pushing his chest, her breathing against his, the synchronicity of their attraction. He yearned to free them, to gaze upon them in awe for real, having seen them in two dimensions over and over on his screen in his home, to nuzzle them, arouse them. To kiss them, to feel them, to know them.
He moved his hand from her back down to curve of her cheek, so full, so firm. He carried on down, following their shape to where they met her leg and held them, revelling in their curve, and returning back up.
She breathed a sigh mid kiss, their mouths broke away but still hot, close. She was all he had imagined, full and shaped, curved and exciting. He ran his other hand up her side to where he could feel the bulge of her breast between his thumb and outstretched finger, rested his cheek on hers momentarily and brushed her neck with his lips. She sighed again, a long breath out, willing to surrender like melting ice in the winds of a desert. He continued to kiss her neck, inching his way up to her ear, she moved her head back, long hair inching down her back, eyes still closed drinking in the sensation. She pulled him closer, caressed his back before sliding her hands down to the top of his backside. They remained locked in embrace for a time, her pulling his hips to hers, he tenderly devouring the side of her slender, tender neck. She parted her legs slightly, urged him into her through the clothing, the impossibility of it not restraining her enthusiasm, as if willing a forbidden penetration. He made his way down her neck to the top of her chest, moving the gown so slightly aside as he went. He could smell her hair, fresh from washing, imparting the smell of her shampoo. He could feel the heat of her body escaping through the top of her gown as he moved it, and crouched slightly to maintain the lock at the hip but gain access to the top of her breast as it rose and ebbed with her breath.
He nuzzled the soft skin of her chest, drinking in the sensations coursing through him. He felt alive, as alive as it was possible to be, feelings of lust, control, passion, and yearning had seized him. She was accepting and accommodating, brazen and warm, all that he had dreamed of. She moved slowly up and down him, pressing her groin into his leg. She felt giddy, overcome, under the spell of the trance, the kiss had left her wet and ready.
She took his hand and slowly parted from him; looking into his eyes he could see her powerful craving.
Without a word, her grip tightened in his, and she turned her head toward the sofa.
“Come with me, treat me badly, I need you now” she breathed. She took him to the lounge, further into her sanctuary, her bosom, and he willingly followed. He looked longingly at her curves as she walked ahead, the shapelessness of her gown revealing tantalising glimpses of her underneath as she stepped. He felt like a teenager again, about to be seduced once more by that sultry mistress of lust. He was ready to give in to it, willing, unable to stop her even if he wanted to.
She stopped and turned into him abruptly; they collided gently and fell into each other once again. This kiss was more urgent, searching, seeking tongues slid in and out, moist lips betrayed each other’s anticipation as they contorted and followed one another. He brought his hand to the belt of her gown and effortlessly it fell away. She shrugged and it collapsed to the ground, folding itself into a crescent around her feet. She felt the cool breeze move across her, hardening her nipples further. They felt like they were going to eject themselves from her, aching, stretching.
The heady kiss continued, drawn out to infinite lengths, timeless. He raised his hand up to her breast, cupping it gently he could feel the hard pout of her nipple through the brassieres fabric, proud and abrupt against the flow of the rest. He circled it, gently at first then harder, closer, until he brushed it one way, and then the other. She made no noise but he felt her move, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
He realised then how sensitive she was to be touched there, how he might bring her on like a marionette under his control, seduce her further. He slowly pressed his fingers over it, she moved quickly now, a start almost, and broke the kiss to gasp and stare into his eyes. As he tightened his grip he watched her eyelids fall, her head and eyes roll slowly back until they were closed again. Then suddenly they opened, widened and she could not keep her mouth from his any longer. Frantic now she kissed him, mouth wide open, tongue darting, seizing, ebbing away and returning like an endless tide. He slid his hand under her bra and finally cupped the bare flesh of her breast, rolled her naked nipple back and forth, back and forth. She stopped the kiss again, uncontrolled breaths rolled in and out, her tongue still on his, then released a slow sound, tribal, guttural, a sound as if made before people first uttered language, a sound of instinct from the distant past. The quiet moan came from nowhere, rose and subsided in another breath; she collapsed into him further and sloped her shoulders up and down in time with him, their dance immaculate, following each other’s lead as if they had danced since time began. She was beginning to respond to his strings as a puppet would, his bidding undeniable.
By now his other hand had found its way under her pants, around her hip, slowly experiencing the smooth skin of her curves. His hand felt rough, alien to her, but irresistible, so she willed it on, go further, it’s yours, I am yours, drink me in, taste me everywhere in mouth and skin, I am waiting for the journey, the walk with your discovery of me, she thought.
He cupped her breast, again and again moving his hand and fingers slowly around and back, feeling the softness, the fullness of her soft breast and the hard, swollen contraction of her nipple and areola, again and again he moved away and back again. He felt as though he could do this forever, each time the surprise of the change from breast to nipple excited him further. Finally, after eternity, he could resist no longer, and lifted her cup away with his wrist, broke the kiss and smoothly moved his mouth down to the naked breast. She gasped again as he neared it, anticipation welling up again, her crotch now soaked, running almost free, nipples bursting, tingling, un-ignorable. He missed the nipple, she thought she could feel him contact her still, it was so close and she willed it so strongly, but then when he returned back over, his short stubble brushed it so slightly it was unmistakable contact, electricity jolted from it into her heart, stabbing her, slipping further control from her conscious thought, making her jerk and sigh without permission.
Then he was on her, mouth, lips, so light, over her tight pink areola they closed in, more electricity, the sigh became a moan and finally she felt his mouth completely around it, his breath drawing in tighter, his tongue moved across, then back, then stronger, she felt the blood rush to her breast, in the agony of passion she writhed to follow him as he pulled away slightly and then relieved her by moving back in.
His hands now found her tight arse, then ran over and over, pausing occasionally to squeeze and caress before beginning their dance again, again, moving ever lower each time as he crouched to her chest and felt down her leg. She found her hand moving up to her other breast, to tease it, to give it a poor imitation of the bliss its sister was enjoying. He sucked at the other, relentless, pulling hard at it before opening his mouth again, encasing the surrounds and dragging his sweet, warm mouth back to the nipple, over and over, she now gave in completely. All thought left her head, and they were replaced with warm waves of ecstasy, each washing further and further in to her, over her, through her.
She was vaguely aware of his hands slowly edging closer to her heated, wet pussy with each pass of her buttocks, aware but not cognisant of them, certainly aware though of the rising symphony of light and sound within her, which should surely burst and shatter her, the intensity so great, the amplitude of each wave so crushing that she felt she it would not be possible to survive the next.
She took him by the hand, turned and lead him after her. He watched her hair, half bouncing with her step and half flying in her wind as he swam after her in the cloud of her trailing perfume. His head was light; his feet did not seem to touch the ground. His mind filled him with its beautiful self-made opiates of pleasure, endorphins and adrenalin, serotonin and dopamine flushed through him. His subconscious was rewarding him for his fortune this day, and his conscious realised as he drifted after her, how fortunate he had been indeed.
She was, to look upon, beyond his expectation. An assembly of the physical attributes that he had admired, wished for, from various women he had secretly admired, coveted, from a distance, in previous walks of his life, was taking him to her bedroom.
He had always found himself intimidated by the classic beauties, found them often full of themselves, unaccepting, indeed unacceptable. More concerned with how they looked and who they were with than how they were feeling. They may be beautiful on the outside but, clichéd as it was, normally skin deep and no more.
She was beautiful in so many different ways. So many more pleasant ways. Her face was a striking blend of complementing features, no hard lines, all perfectly proportioned, bound in the attractive maturity of late early age that he was always enamoured with, which she wore well, comfortably and as a result she was made up discretely, to accentuate, not to hide. He thought back to the photographs she had mailed him. They were attractive, certainly, but although they bore a resemblance to her in reality, her pictures had failed to capture the true subtle beauty of herself.
And those eyes! Her eyes had melted him as soon as he saw them, lowered and demure, shy, alluring. He could have peered into them forever if he had not been shy himself. Already he was longing to glimpse them again.
No time had passed and they were in the bedroom. She lay upon the bed and looked up at him. Those eyes again met his and his heart stopped, he was locked in a trance, he could not look away and would not even if he was able to.
He swam in them, transfixed, overcome by them. They were majestic black pools of pure, clear mountain water, endless in depth, perfect onyx pearls ringed by richest beaches of exquisite jade. She had no need for manmade adornments, not fine jewellery nor any other trinkets hewn by even the most celebrated craftsmen. Those eyes were sure to overcome them, their splendour, their perfection would certainly make such workings appear crude, unrefined, fade into the furthest corner of their beholders vision. Immaculate, as if brought forth by a goddess, treasures of the heavens bestowed to her as a prize for some impossible deed in some impossible legend. They were the most captivating things he had ever seen, and they had, surprisingly, caught him well unawares.
His heart leapt back into life, crashed against his chest and lurched up into his mouth, pounded in his ears. He sank to the bed beside her, willed his gaze away from her eyes and found her lips, pink and secret, they moved and spoke to him but he was oblivious to the words they were speaking.
He had to have her. He leaned forward, hesitant, suddenly unsure if he had overstepped some boundary, but thankfully, she noticed his intent and leaned forward in turn to meet him again. He felt her lips on his, soft and elastic, conforming effortlessly to his, they embraced him, welcomed him and nourished him. He closed his eyes and allowed his to follow hers, as they slowly pulsed open to closed and back again. He had forgotten what it felt like to have such a passionate, heated kiss, and he revelled in it. It reached its end, he began to pull away and instantly realised it was not enough and pushed ahead again to find her immediately again accepting him. He tasted her lipstick, felt its smudgy resistance as he caressed her full, round mouth with his.
Their breathing quickened, mutual unspoken agreement of acceptance was struck. His hand found her shoulder, palm on the top of her breast, then moved irresistibly to her roundness. He felt her nipple below the layers, beginning to harden. Good he thought. He was coming to his senses again, regaining control of himself, he pushed his fingers down her chest, found the crinkling protection of her bra, felt over it, then pushed his fingers underneath it. Her skin was smooth and satisfying, well cared for, a sensual delight to the touch. Her skin, so sheer, gave no resistance as he followed her curve down to the proud erect flesh of her nipple. He instantly regretted getting this far so quickly, wanting the moment to linger, more of those exquisite kisses, the heady moments before opening the forbidden fruit, but the instant he hesitated she urged him on, pushing herself against his hand, a quiet moan escaped her lips and her leg found its way into the moment, first pushing on his then enveloping it.
Spurred on, heat rising, his erection bursting, he gently squeezed. Her gasp reached him and he could deny her no longer, and released her breast from its bind. He moved down to take her swollen jewel in his mouth, slowly licking and then sucking.
She could not restrain herself any longer. She leapt up, overcome, pulled off her top like the shackles of a freed prisoner and threw them away without care. She needed to feel the sensation of his body against hers and nothing was going to stop her. Topless, she embraced him and they rolled into one, slowly forcing themselves upon one another in waves of movement. Sparks of pleasure shot through her as he drew her breasts into his mouth, one then the other, and treated both to ever firmer, harder suction. His hand eventually found its way down to her drenched knickers and pushed aside her folds, rubbing up and down them. She felt so wet and now more, as he pressed hard into her mound, dragged the drenched fabric over her excited, bursting clitoris. More moans escaped her as pleasure washed up her belly and into her chest. She grasped at him with her legs, urging him in, she had become wild, insatiable, an animal, instinct was now in charge. She pushed him away, removed her panties with such urgency that they almost tore, the stitching groaning complaining against her disrespect of them. They too were cast aside and suddenly she was naked. She had never felt better, more right, as he found the outside of her pussy, teasing her again with his calmness, almost reluctance to give her what she wanted. She pushed herself against his hand, trying her best to get his hand on her, to give her that touch that she longed for.
Again he teased her, and sensed her urgency and decided there would be time later for restraint, for right now she had a fire to be quenched. He opened her up with his finger, and found her straining bulb. Rubbing over it lightly, then more firmly, he gently squeezed it out from its shroud. He watched it emerge, another perfect piece of her, tiny and faultless, he bent down and put his lips to her.
She wriggled in pleasure as he sucked and tongued at her. The waves were strong coming from her groin, and she rode them up and down in time with him. She was struck by how could he read her like this, respond in unison like practiced dancers so immaculately with her after only knowing her for a few minutes. Waves of heat consumed her as he worked his way around her soft velvet hood and over her budding flower. She felt his mouth move apart, and suddenly teeth gently clenched her, a finger stretched her open and her quim melted for him, wetness gushed down inside her and she felt it trickle down her, between her cheeks and away to the bed beneath her. His fingers moved up inside, slightly stretched her and she felt another wave of her waters escape her before he retreated and circled her entrance, gently pushing against it, threatening again to move inside her. He gently bit her again and another, loader moan escaped her. She grasped at her breasts, encompassed them and squeezed her nipples. ‘I’m going to come’ she breathed, and he sucked and bit again. More waves pushed up from her pussy and into her body. His fingers advanced further inside her, he gently intensified the pressure on her with his teeth and simultaneously reached up to push her from directly underneath her clit.
Fire exploded from her. Heat rushed up the inside of her. He swept his fingers across the inside of her again and she was overcome with a forceful, all-encompassing intense pleasure. Wave upon wave crushed her from within and she was suddenly wrapped in the throes of the greatest release. She convulsed, tightened everywhere, sighed a load moan and threw him from her. Still the waves came, still intensifying, stopping her breath, paralysing her in rigor, stiff, muscles tightened everywhere, her legs, her feet, her hands, her body straightened, her breathing stopped, and with her eyes wide, she allowed the decadent sensations to consume and overcome her.
He lay next to her, silent, and watched her extend, then relax. Eyes closed. A small wisp of a smile put a cute curl to her cheek. He was amazed at her sexual energy, at how overcome she was, how the might of that orgasm had torn her from him. He had only witnessed such energy, such release from women before only after two or three times the attention he had just given to her, sometimes much more was required to bring about the same effect.
Her sensitivity to sensuality was surreal. Immediately he wanted her to have those feelings again, and again and again! I have a gift for you, he thought, in fact many gifts. If your release is this ferocious with only this level of stimulation, of care, of timing, imagine what heights you could reach if you can give yourself, completely, over to slow, methodical tantric concentration!
He was acutely, almost ashamedly, aware they had rushed, no boundaries pushed, stretched, no limits had even been approached so far and yet the powerful results lay on the bed breathing heavily, deliciously within fingers reach of him. The thought of how she would react to other, deeper pleasures excited him greatly!
She had told him she liked to be teased, to be played with, but what they had just done seemed to him a mere peek into the toy box. His mind wandered over other possibilities. How would she react to two hours of real teasing, brought to the brink over and over but not allowed to cross? How would she feel after his fingers were everywhere, from her cheek to her neck, lightly drawn over her shoulders and down in concentric circles around her bosom, so slowly and purposefully winding in closer and closer to her nipple, but never touching it. He knew he could build her up to the point where a mere breath on her, in the right place, may bring about a spontaneous orgasm in itself.
He imagined her restrained, silk scarfs lightly bounding her wrists to the bed. Not tight. Not so that she could not free herself from them, it is the idea of being teased that is important. Perhaps not even tied, only strict instruction to hold the bed end and not to let go under any circumstances. Yes, that would do it! Being denied the ability to touch herself would truly leave her to his muses.
He then considered where else he could lay his hands, palm down under her boob, lifting it slightly to his mouth, as she watched, to bring his lips over those sensitive buds, those erect buttons of her breast, pausing to ensure she watched, put his mouth over them and… not touch them, his hot breath caressing them ever so slightly, aloofly pulling away at the last moment as she inevitably attempted to thrust them into him. Ah ah ah! Not yet! Then to repeat again with a different pattern, decadent, slow tracing of energy ever inward toward those hot points, maybe the tiniest touch with his tongue on the third pass.
He imagined leaving the breasts behind, taunted and stiff, and move on down her sides with firmer hands, trailing his nose along her belly, touching her with his chin further and further and further down toward her pelvis, then to miss with his chin at that crucial point, the point where he would smell her perfume of lust rising from her, enticing him to finish her off. He would hold her hips firmly so she could not buck herself up to him, that would be getting off far too easily, while he trailed his nose down to her folds, down one side, licking at her thigh, flick, flick, and onward slowly down trailing his erection down her smooth thigh and lower leg all the while. He could imagine his hairy bag dragging, clinging to her all the way down when he moved from her chest to her middle. His pre-cum trailing a wet line from her hip to her knee.
He thought about how it would feel to be so close to the heat of her perfect pussy, wet and liberal radiating on to his cheek. He closed his eye and breathed in that scent in his minds eye. He imagined so slightly touching her opening with his nose as he moved across, brief but purposefully, as he moved around and up the other side, his chin so gently against her entrance. He could see her tight clit exposing itself, yearning, searching for him but still unsatisfied as he held her in place against the reaction to press herself upon him. He would satiate her temporarily with his finger at her mouth, like bait, knowing she would take it in, sucking in earnest, cheeks hollow as she drew his digit inside her deep wet mouth while he held her right hip with his shoulder and continued to tease around and around her unquenched, excited quim with his face and mouth.
What volcanoes would burst forth after such slowly forced temptation was finally yielded to, and he allowed her eventual climax? Surely a torrent of pleasure, unrealisable heights of satisfaction, possibly even self-actualisation. He chuckled within himself, perhaps she would even pass out!
He suddenly considered that may be too much for her after all, perhaps quick grinding and rutting was all she desired, especially if that got her to her goal? Was that all she wanted before, all she wanted from him?
Quickly he banished the thought, and he returned his sure thoughts - I have gifts, many gifts for you my princess from the internet, and I think you will enjoy every one of them, in fact I’m sure you will, if you let yourself, arrive at places never experienced thus far.
He watched her lay on her back, recovering from the shock her body had just received. Her eyes were softly closed, her breathing just beginning to slow. She was more than satisfactory in every way. He enjoyed her in that state. She appeared content, appeased, glowing. This was the moment he longed for, always longed for, the object of his desire spread before him in perfect satiation, hunger temporarily banished, fulfilled and calm.
She was at that moment, the apple of his eye. Her hair, teased at the back from its scuffle with the pillows, stood up in awkward angles, itself seeming in its own way released from its everyday restraint, groups of strands, each with its own highlights and colours individualised and shining in their own space. Her hair reminded him of that of maidens from films after being taken in the hayshed by the amorous farm boy, ruffled up and still excited even after the rest of her was finished.
He moved his eyes down to hers, closed gently, long lashes swept down to the tops of her cheeks caressing them gently as she breathed in and out. He followed her handsome nose, strong and definitive, down to her soft pink lips, slightly apart in the centre, moist, pouting, moving as well with the symphony of her breath. Their kiss had given him such pleasure, she had given them to him so willingly and expertly, soft and inviting.
He observed her high cheekbones with their makeup uncaringly smudged by her movements against him and the bed. The streaks looked to him as a surrealist landscape painting of an autumn afternoon, long expert brushstrokes forming the beautiful patterns lain by the last drifts of late sun washing through branches of a tree.
He stared at her face, taking in every detail, hoping she would not open her eyes, not just yet. To catch him staring so intently might have been mistaken for something… sinister maybe, but he could not look away. He wanted the vision of her at such peace to be burnt into his memory.
She would probably not understand how happy this moment, and indeed her, was making him feel, and he wanted it to last forever.
They continued to explore each other for the rest of the afternoon, the hours passed too quickly.
Eventually they parted, returning to their own lives as the sun, too, fled for home, trailing long shadows before it finally disappeared, leaving no sign that it had been except in the memory of its witnesses.
He was in a good mood for days. He was surprised by how good he felt.
He had not had sex for over a year, and not had not achieved an orgasm with his wife for over three. He had been faithful to his wife for the fourteen years they had been together, never straying, never feeling that he would even be worth a second look from any other girl anyway.
He realised that he had been depressed sexually, his advances shunned so many times that he had given up asking, leaving him feeling like he was inadequate, unappetising, vulgar.
His latest experience had turned his world upside down. Over the next few weeks, he could not stop thinking about her. She invaded his thoughts continuously throughout the day, and starred in his dreams at night. He was aware of his infatuation, acutely, and struggled to curtail his enthusiasm and he seemed, at least to himself, to do a very poor job of hiding it from her in his messages.
He felt the worst thing he could do was become overbearing, a burden upon her, push her away accidentally by invading her space, by expecting too much. Before they had met he found it easy to be brash, confidently sending messages to her without over-analysing what he had written. He was surprised that she wanted to meet him, that he had enough charm and attraction for her, let alone anyone else, to invite him to bed with her. His confidence had been boosted and felt like he was on top of the world!
Coming down, like always, was the hardest thing.
He well knew the rules of meeting someone from a site like this. NSA, no strings. Fuck and go.
No puppy eyes, no coercion, leave your emotions at the door. He thought he was capable of this, being hard, divorcing himself of feeling. After all, sex was only a mechanical action devoid of depth, wasn’t it? Perform the deed, make her happy, leave happy, be simple.
Obviously this was easier said than done. He had always been able to act like that before, hard and cold, many times, many years ago. He had been with other women in his earlier life, before he was married, when he was young and free of care and the endless summers of the future lay before him. He enjoyed those women, certainly, but he had managed to remain aloof, distant. So what was different now?
Was it middle age? Was the end sub consciously nearer. Was it that the belief that those endless summers stretching away into infinity would never end was changing? Thoughts that those summers were indeed finite after all were invading his psyche? Was he simply realising his mortality, grasping at straws?
HA! Was he having a midlife crisis? Hmm not really. He was usually secure in himself and proud of what he had achieved in his life so far, even if he had often achieved them the hard way. He felt he was always in touch with his mortality.
Was he in love? He did not believe so. He was in love with his wife, his children. This felt different.
Was it simply lust? This was more plausible. He did, after all, have an abnormal sexual appetite, he had been assured of this before by previous partners. The first years with his wife were a fuckfest, often only hours going by between sessions. He had had countless evenings of endless love making, coming then becoming quickly aroused again over and over, sometimes having to take a day off work afterward because of minor injury, unable to walk through chaffing or muscle strains or simply through sheer exhaustion. Was he addicted to sex?
The thought confounded him. Am I an addict? The feelings he was having were comparable with addiction, obsession, feeling so high then feeling so low, always anxious to get back on the horse as soon as possible. He entertained this thought for some time, considering his behaviour, both recent and before, and finally concluded that he was in control of himself in this regard, that he did not harm himself nor anyone else with sex, nor with his sexual behaviour, that he was not obsessed, at least not usually, with sex and did not normally go out of his way to pursue any such goals.
What was wrong with him then?
After some time, after endlessly going around with it in his head, he finally agreed with himself that he had simply enjoyed fucking a beautiful woman.
A woman who appeared physically attracted to him as well. A women who had responded to his advances in bed, had appreciated him for what he had done for her and he simply was not emotionally prepared for it.
Dam his passion. Dam his enthusiasm. He had acted like a child. Allowed himself to be carried away with the thought that she could be his on demand, would be there forever. His immaturity in such things was becoming very apparent to him, and he had no-one to turn to, to talk about it with.
He would have to be more restrained in the future, if there was a next time, with her or anyone else. More distant. Less involved. Emotionally prepared for the torrent of feelings that had almost taken him over.
The heavens had opened, and the glorious life giving rains had finally come and broken the drought that had suppressed him for so long, and although the floodwaters almost carried him away with them, they had not. And he had survived, stronger, prepared and ready to brace himself for those feelings again next time. He must remember to thank her for the journey she had, unwittingly, led him on, but he doubted he could find the words to make her understand. Regardless, he had grown, and he was grateful to her for that as well.
Frustrated with himself, his sexuality and his lack of emotional experience, he refrained from contacting her, hoping she would eventually reach back out to him.
He had stepped away.
Days passed, becoming weeks, then months. They messaged each other less often but still regularly. The internal walls he had built made him resistant to his emotions. His heart still bounced when he saw her name in his inbox, but he had learned to quickly suppress it.
He had met other women from the site over the time. They were cordial, attractive, coffee then fucking, but they were stopgaps, practice to him. He went about his business in his usual ways but he was changed. Even pornography, his favourite sport, did not come close to satisfying him as well as it did before their ‘date’. He occasionally frustrated himself searching with specific terms, hoping to find her doppelganger in some xxx video, but she was not to be found.
Eventually, she expressed interest in him again.
He opened his email and the message was there.
Subject: Lets do it again
The message body: I have been thinking of you, and I’m wet for you now. Book us a room, anywhere, just make it discrete. I can’t wait for you to have me again.
He made arrangements. Work, family, hotel room were all taken care of in efficient business-like fashion. He went shopping for some ‘specific’ items, and hid them away in his house, his dirty secret. In his head he planned their second date meticulously. He could not wait.
Finally the calendar acknowledged the day of their second meeting. Finishing early from work, he drove home, collected his stash, drove to the hotel and busied himself with his preparations.
The door emitted a sharp rap, which caught him by surprise where he lay on the bed, daydreaming of what was to come. He rose from where he was lying on his back and walked to the door. He hesitated, opened it and revealed her.
She came inside and he closed the door behind her. He turned to her and she kissed him immediately, short and pleasing. She stopped to remove her jacket, which he took from her and hung on the nearby coat hook.
“Anything else you would like to take off?” he enquired. “Of course” she replied.
They undressed each other slowly, pausing to kiss now and then. He felt her skin, warm and desirable, more and more revealed as he undid this, pulled down that. She removed his belt, dropped his trousers to the floor, and rubbed his bulge through his underpants. ‘You have been thinking about me babe?’ she breathed. He nodded. ‘More than you think’ he thought. They pulled off their remaining clothing and came together on the bed.
He had already removed the top covers, and the white sheet, cold and smooth, ruffled and wrinkled as they sat on it. He fondled her breast, cupping and savouring it with his palm as they continued to kiss. She reached down to his erection and smoothed her palm around its hardened shiny end. He sighed in return, thrust himself gently into her hand rhythmically. She slowly tightened her grip, and moved her hand slowly up and down its length. He lay back on the bed, manhood proudly erect and she leant down to kiss him while she slowly stroked.
He relaxed, allowed himself to be toyed with by her. She kissed his cheek softly, then his neck before moving down to his chest. Continuing to softly stroke up and down, she moved her way to his nipple, giving it a slow, deliberate lick, then took it into her mouth and sucked on it. He gasped out a breath; this was one of his favourite things. He felt his nipple harden, become stretched in her mouth and then felt it pushed sideways with her tongue. Her tongue bar gently caressed him and the feeling was electric. He shuddered as she continued, and felt her hand become moistened by a tiny drop of cum that had escaped him and it began to move more easily up and down him. On and on she teased him, satisfying his cock with her hand and his hard nipple with her mouth. He lay still, feeling her rhythmically enslave him with desire.
She moved her leg slightly atop his, and he felt the smooth soft flesh of her inner thigh massaging his. These three points of contact, his straining nipple erection being teased delicately in her mouth, her small, delicate smooth hands sliding down to where his jewels met his cock then slowly returning, tantalising, to his head, rubbing it around with her palm, then sliding anew back down to its base, and now her thigh upon his was absolutely exquisite.
She maintained the rhythm, all the while kissing, licking and sucking his nipple, pulling back, looking up on him then closing in for another kiss. He felt the divine wind of orgasm just beginning to stir in his belly, slowly it wound around inside him as she worked, unhurried, giving herself to him totally. On clouds he floated. Unaware of anything in this world but her, he bathed in her lavish attention.
She moved to the other side of his chest with her mouth, and took in his other nipple. He felt her warm pussy touch his leg, slight wetness smeared over him as she swayed back in forth in time with her slow hand job. Her tongue and bar did their work on his other side, touching then squeezing him between her teeth and the jewellery. She moved her pussy fractionally against his leg, up then back in time with her hand movement. It was becoming overwhelming for him, and he moved, gently, quietly in time with her.
She took her mouth of his straining peak and moved up to kiss him. It was full, deep, she penetrated him with her tongue and he responded by gently touching hers. He tasted the plastic ball on her tongue as she slowly moved it around his mouth. He found it highly erotic and strained against her leg, willing her quim onto him with gentle movements. Her hands continued their meticulous stroke, like a metronome, slowly up, slowly down. She broke the kiss to lean over to his ear.
‘I want you to come for me’
She nibbled at his earlobe, continued to rub her mound on him, pulled up and down his solid phallus with her gentle hand.
‘I want you to come all over my hand’
She stroked his neck with her tongue. He groaned and closed his eyes, let the feelings from so many parts of him stir further the wind inside him
‘Come for me babe’
She kissed him once more, closed mouth at first, then moved his open and darted her tongue inside against his again. He felt his anus tighten, her nipple and breast brushed his inner elbow, their softness pushing him further toward climax.
She increased the tightness of her grip on him, and so slightly increased the speed of her movement up and down his member. Again she took his nipple in her mouth and squeezed it gently between the barbell and her top and bottom teeth. The winds stirred themselves up in his middle. Electric bolts shot from his backside to the head of his dick. He clenched his cheeks and felt himself grow further in her hand, and she responded by tightening her grip even further. She slid her hand down to the base again, ringed him very tightly with her thumb and finger, and pulled strongly up his length to his head.
‘Come for me baby, I need to see your jizz’ she growled from her throat, his nipple still tightly wedged between her teeth.
His breath was coming in fast pants now. Heavy sighs left his body but were quickly replaced as he drew in sharply after each. His toes curled as she reached his head, her pussy pushed harder into his thigh. He closed his eyes, moaned, as he felt his seed rush up inside him and eject itself in rapturous spasms.
‘Uh.. Uh… Uh…’ he cried in excruciating relief. Warm winds enveloped him, blew gently over his skin as he came, hard and long. A hot flush moved over him and he bucked and contorted in reaction to her weight upon him. Spasms of shuddering then overcame him before he relaxed, lay still. He could feel his cum running down the inside of his leg. He opened his eyes to find her still over him, still holding him, and he reached his head up and kissed her while they remained in place, together.
After she released him and rolled away, he looked down at himself. His leg was shaking. His mouth was quivering as well. It had been a long time since he had shot his load under the care of someone other than himself, and shot he had done. Semen had reached his chest, and small drops had beaded on her hip.
‘That was magnificent’ he breathed, looking up at her.
She smiled, winked at him.
‘Your turn now, big boy’ she said. She rolled over fully on to her back and let her hands move carefree over her body; one eventually finding her breast and the other her reddened, wet folds.
She was intoxicating to look at in that pose, eyes glistening as she watched him in post-ejaculation bliss, penis still upright, twitching in the air. She raised her far leg at the knee and rolled slightly so he could see what she was doing to herself, massaging her creased lips gently, occasionally moving her finger inside them for a short few rubs, then back outside again.
He watched her play with herself gently as he recovered from the work she had done on him. He took his time in getting up; enjoying the exhibition she was putting on for him. He watched her slowly tease herself, gently pampering her exotic shaven puss and full round boobs. He enjoyed it so much his erection did not shrink. It remained upright, hard, ready for more. God he hadn’t seen it stay like that after coming in years!
‘Right’ he said, as he stood up. ‘Do you feel naughty?’
She looked up at him from where she lay, sprawled, on the bed, met his eye and narrowed hers slightly. She pushed her mound up against her hand, fingers moving slowly but the tips remaining hidden inside her labia.
‘Yes I do’ she whispered, slowly closing her legs to hide herself from him, finger still inside.
He gently took her under her knees and swivelled her around on the bed so that her feet pointed to a mirror on the cabinet at the end of the bed, leant up in front of the television. She hadn’t noticed it there before, brown framed, angled down toward the bed. She could see herself fully in it, and she opened her legs slightly to look upon herself, fingers still slowly caressing her delicate flower.
He moved onto the bed behind her and sat with his back against the headboard. He patted the sheet between his legs with his hand.
‘Scoot your cute little butt up here babe’
She pushed herself backward up the bed toward him until she rested her back against his belly.
‘Hmm you feel so good’ he said, as he reached around her front and cupped her breasts again, rolling her nipples gently. She watched him in the mirror, fondling her. It was slightly unreal, like watching a movie of herself, feeling him as he moved. She continued to quietly finger herself while she watched in the mirror.
‘Mmm your pussy is so nice. There is nothing more of a turn on than watching a girl play with herself’ he whispered.
She could see him watching her in the mirror from over her shoulder, looking from between her legs to her face and back again while he caressed her breasts. She watched herself fingering her fanny, feeling slightly embarrassed at first but as she became used to the idea was becoming more turned on.
He hooked his feet under her knees and slowly widened the gap between her legs. She could feel his still hard cock against her back, throbbing gently against her. It felt delicious as she continued to bring herself on in voyeuristic style, her image in the mirror turning her on more and more. Slowly her hand movements sped up as they brushed across her clit. He squeezed and rolled her nipples, just as she liked it, and as she thought of his stiff erection pumping wildly under her hand a few minutes earlier, she convulsed into a satisfying orgasm, eyes clenched shut, knees rolled in closing her hand in against herself as she wriggled and stiffened.
He watched her shudder, closing her eyes, a small moan escaping her delicate lips as she brought on her own climax. He found her so adorable, lovely to look at, so open to so many of the things he found attractive in women. A woman’s orgasm, he considered, must be the most beautiful thing in the history of man. It was as if he lived his life only to see it happen. He found it a shame that so often it was only brief and more so that they were, for many women, infrequent.
They sat together in harmony, breathing together, simply being. He pulled the sheet up over her and they hugged, albeit backwards, for some minutes. She leant his head back against him as he slowly moved his hands up and down her body, over her belly and down her thighs. There was no need for words, they simply passed that time revelling in each other, feeling each other, satisfied that they had each other for now.
After a time, and without a word, he moved from beneath her and leant over to the bedside drawer, sliding it open. She started with the unexpected movement, leant forward, and watched as he pulled a tube of cream from the drawer.
Aloe Vera. Strange she thought. There were better lubes than that. He placed it on the bed beside her and reached back into the drawer, from which he now produced a long plastic ruler.
Suddenly she tensed. They had spoken about this briefly in their emails, asked him for this. She suddenly felt excited and nervous all at once. Warmth spread through her groin again, and she felt her nipples harden beneath the sheer sheet draped softly over her.