Have I been too hasty?
I should have told him that I'd think about it for a week or so.
The reality of what I had done started to burn itself into my brain: a nineteen-year-old guy whom I had only contacted once before in a chat room; my eight-year marriage to Steve. Now I was risking so much in agreeing to meet the guy because he had flattered me and told me that he was enthusiastic about my writing.
I had even mistaken his chat room nickname as that of a female and was reluctant to chat with him in P2P. The first shock was that of his explanation of his nickname. But his explanation had me enthralled and we chatted for some time. I warned him that I was somewhat older than he at thirty-five. His "girl", he said, was thirty-eight and he preferred that age group.
As, I guess, with all young men, he wanted to impress me with his claim to having a nine-inch cock. I told him that as a naturist I had seen many cocks of all shapes and sizes, and although I never tired of looking and imagining riding one that caught my fancy, I needed only one, that of my husband. Steve's never failed to satisfy me although it was not of the large proportions of some.
I have made up my mind! To meet him on the basis of the fascinating story behind his choice of chat room nickname and to discuss those subjects that had interested him about my writing.
Nothing more!
***
I don't know what it is. What is happening? Steve and I made love last night and he remarked how horny I was. I didn't understand it myself. But I couldn't disguise how intense and how frequent were my orgasms; they drilled right throughout my body. Steve even had to stop me at one stage; he was fearful that I was going to tear off his cock at the roots as I sucked at it and pumped it so greedily. I always swallow his seed and pretend I love the taste, but that is not exactly true. But last night I couldn't get enough; I begged him to cum over me so that I could have it on my lips, my fingers, anywhere. It must have spurred him to great things because he was truly a stud, fucking me so hard, so long, so many glorious times. And I adored it!
This morning I begged Steve to fuck me before he left home. And he did. On the bed. In the shower. In the kitchen before I would let him out of the door to leave on a week’s tour of business.
In the car, although I tried all the usual distractions of radio, CD etc., my pussy still remembered Steve's cock pounding it, and my clit still buzzed from the grazing it had received from his tongue and my fingernails, so that I found my fingers wandering to my crotch. Anticipating that my raised libido may prove inconvenient, I had popped extra panties into my bag; there was no prospect of me going commando without ruining my dress. I stopped on the journey a couple of times to pee, to relieve that insistent itch at my pussy, and change my undies.
Oh my gosh, I knew him as soon as he walked out of Arrivals at the airport; so young, so tall, so... so... well, hunky! And geeesh, his pants were so tight that, unless he packed his spare socks there, there was no mistaking that he was hung!
I stood there almost mesmerised, and he had to say hi before I awoke from what seemed a dream. I asked how he was sure that I was his writer, and blushed as he paid me so many compliments that my panties almost fell off right there and then. For one so young, he had all the right lines to sweep a girl off her feet.
Of course there was no way that I could take him to my home! So I had booked us in a hotel close to the airport in a town miles from home; two rooms adjacent. OK, OK! I know that I had been determined that we should only talk, but last night's events and my raised libido this morning warned me that it would be prudent to be prepared for all eventualities.
He was so attentive, and that he was used to a women of mature years was obvious. His manners were excellent and he was so romantic! Whenever I had to go pee I looked at myself in the mirror, and wow, I needed no blusher; my face was glowing. Did he recognise all the signs that a girl is hot? Was he chuckling to himself that he had me wetting my panties? Thank goodness I had packed those spare panties!
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of oestrogen, fuelled by the testosterone that my "fan" exuded, and it was soon time to dress for a show and dinner.
I told him that I had to shower and make myself look presentable. He too was going to take a shower. We had opened the door dividing our two rooms so that we could talk whilst settling in, and I guess that I knew that sooner or later the moment would come when one or other of us would be caught unawares; dressing, undressing or just plain naked. And rather than be wary of it, I was rather hoping that it would happen sooner rather than later.
Under the shower the hot water began to relax me and bring me down a little from my rather excited state. So my scream at the sudden slap on my butt was to be expected.
Strong hands slid over my hips and up onto my tits, where they gently but so expertly began to caress and squeeze them.