I sit at the bar of the Renaissance hotel nursing my ginger ale. Something stronger would be nice, but it's a lunch date. I need to be back at work in two hours tops, so ginger ale it is. Stirring my tame drink, I look around the bar area, not really seeking anything specific. You would be there eventually.

As I lift my drink to take a sip, a strong hand wraps tenderly around my shoulder. On a slow breath, I look up and find your eyes. I had no idea you would be so gorgeous. Dark hair, tan skin, strong jaw. Your charcoal suit is perfectly fitted over your well proportioned shoulders, crisp, white shirt peeking out from underneath to create a stark contrast. Your tie is beautifully done and draws attention to your neck. I feel a little flutter in my belly as I realize how enticing the entire ensemble is on you. You smile as you take the stool next to mine.

“I'm so glad you could make it. I don't have a whole lot of time but I wanted to get together and at least have lunch.” God, your smile is infectious. I feel my own lips spreading wider into a grin.

“Well, I'm glad you called. It's nice to finally put a face to the name,” I say. Swiveling my stool, I turn to face you more directly, crossing my stocking-clad legs as I settle against the back rest. My short pencil skirt slides higher up my thighs, and I self-consciously tug it back down.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

You hold my eyes with your gaze a little longer than is comfortable, and I look shyly away. I can feel a soft blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. Mentally chiding myself for my bashfulness, I look back at you, only to find you eying the line of my skirt, a speculative look in your eyes. Your open study sends the butterflies in my stomach flapping harder, the blush heating my face further as I clear my throat. Your eyes snap back up and I see the devilish glint there. I feel a giggle stuck in my throat, wanting to burst out and break some of the tension gathering in my chest. So I let it, feeling like a teenage girl tittering over a boy she's got a crush on. I almost snort indelicately, but catch myself, placing a hand over my mouth and laughing. The mirth in your eyes is a relief. You catch the bartender and request a Coke and some lunch menus.

After that initial moment of sexual tension, our conversation flows beautifully. I'd been so afraid that it would be different from our conversations online, more awkward, but it's just the same, if not even more enjoyable. You are so engaging with your anecdotes and opinions about current events. I'm a rapt audience, responding eagerly to your easy charm. Lunch is delicious, much more so for the company, though the food is superb. When it's time to pay the tab, I reach for my wallet, but your fingers wrap around my forearm. You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

You say, “I don't let a lady pay.”

Your thumb rubs slowly along the inside of my arm, the soft contact lighting up the nerve endings from my fingers clear down to my toes. My entire body is tingling as I look up at you, eyes wide. You're looking at my lips, and your stare feels like a caress. I draw my lower lip between my teeth and bite down gently, the sensation easing the sudden and reckless desire to feel your lips on mine. Your lips part on a soft intake of breath, the grip you have on my arm tightening just slightly. We stay that way for a beat, and I wonder if you'll lean forward and simply take what you so obviously want. But... we'd agreed.

I pull my arm back from your hand, and the spell breaks. You lean back in your stool, momentarily at a loss for words while I rummage in my purse for nothing in particular. I watch out of the corner of my eye as you pull your wallet out, place a few bills with the tab. You still look distracted, lost in your own thoughts, when I sit back up from my search for some self-control. I feel somewhat deflated as I note the slight frown between your eyes, and prepare to go back to my office, even though we've only been there for an hour. I swivel my stool so that I can stand, straightening my skirt as I go. The stilletos I'd worn precisely for this lunch meeting now feel silly and uncomfortable on my feet, even if they do make my legs look amazing. I grab up the handles of my purse and prepare to say goodbye.

“Well, this has been nice! We should do it again, next time you're in town.” I hold my hand out to you, waiting for you to shake it so that I can take my growing embarrassment away with me.

You look at my hand, then stand up. I drop my hand and take a step back to avoid colliding with you as you straighten to your full, impressive height.

“Let me walk you out,” you say, an odd inflection in your tone. You clear your throat, then place a hand at the small of my back and stretch the other one out, inviting me to precede you.

The touch at my back is innocent, and yet it burns right through the thin fabric of my silk blouse. My heartbeat kicks up and I take a deep breath as I begin moving to the narrow hall that leads to the lobby and the exit, praying the whole time that I won't trip in my uber high heels. Your hand stays at my back, and when we get to the deserted hall, I'm forced to move a step or two ahead of you. I feel your fingers trail to my elbow, where you grip and pull me to a stop. The next thing I know, you've spun me so my back is against the wall. The hand at my elbow is a strong shackle, while your other hand wraps surely at the flare of my hip, your thumb sliding rhythmically over the waist band of my skirt.

My whole body vibrates in arousal as you lean in and hover your lips over mine. I can feel your quick breaths and I sense your internal war as you hold your position. You're exuding sexual energy, and my body is not immune to it. An involuntary whimper escapes my mouth as you lean your forehead against mine.

“I can't let you go like this. I just can't,” you say. Your voice is rough, the gravel edge sending shivers down my spine. I swallow involuntarily, trying to work enough saliva into my suddenly dry mouth to respond.

“But... we agreed.” My words sound like a lie, as I drop my purse and my hands come up to your chest, crushing the lapels of your beautiful suit.

“I know!” The response is explosive, and my body aches to feel you pressed against it. You take several harsh breaths, then continue, “I know, but I can't let you go. Come up to my room. Please.” This last bit you whisper with your lips at my ear, your moist breath fanning over my sensitive lobe.

I don't have to think about it twice, although perhaps I should. I nod my consent, and my lips brush against that spot beneath your ear that you told me about. The one that devastates you. You moan and I want to wrap myself around you right there. I would have, too, if you hadn't pulled away. I'm well and truly out of my senses as you bend over to pick up my forgotten purse, then usher me quickly through the lobby and to the elevators. We luck into a waiting car, then stand in silence through the short trip to the 23 rd floor. You still hold my elbow, your fingers tight around the joint. It feels like the most erotic touch anyone has ever laid upon me.

When the elevator doors open, you tug me out and down the hall, to a room marked 2314. The key card you produce shakes in your hand slightly as you introduce it into the lock and gain entry. You push the door open, pull me inside, and as the door closes, you turn and press me back against it. You hold yourself away from me, but lean in, your lips again only a breath from mine. I find your tie and wrap it around my hand; you're now only a tug away from my greedy lips.

My conscience gives one last try at stopping the madness, the words tripping over each other as they rush out, “We shouldn't do this. We can't do this! My husband, your wife!”

Your growl is low, menacing. The sound shoots straight to my core, where a tight ball of need has begun pulsing. Then you become very still, your body vibrating in taught restraint. Your beautiful, desire-darkened eyes look into mine and I feel speared through. I hold my breath as you speak.

“Then we'll just watch.”

You lean away from me, then walk backward into the room, your hand finding mine and pulling me with you. I follow where you lead, stopping when you tell me to. The room is well appointed, with a king sized bed, a desk and rolling chair and an upholstered lounge chair. On the opposite wall from the bed is a short bureau with a large, flat screen T.V. on it. You leave me standing at the lower corner of the bed, then walk to the lounge chair. With careless strength, you drag the chair and place it so that it sits between the bed and the bureau, facing the bed. Then you turn back to me, your eyes brazenly raking over my entire form, that hot gaze making me feel self-conscious under your examination. I rub my hands over my pencil skirt, nervous little butterflies flapping their little wings in my stomach again.

You say, “Take your clothes off. Slowly.”

I'm mortified. I'd never considered doing this for real, letting you actually see my body outside of a chat room window. Our flirting and teasing always had boundaries that we were both careful not to cross, and yet here we are, about to embark on a new and forbidden journey. What if you don't like my body? What if I fail to please you? Even as I worry over the questions, my fingers go to the first of the buttons on my blouse, your eyes following my movements as if your life depends on it. I grip the little button between thumb and forefinger, then bring my other hand up to hold the silk as I pass the button through the hole. I focus my eyes on my task, unwilling to see even a hint of disappointment in your eyes.

Button after button, I finally get to the waist of my skirt. I pull the tails out slowly, then undo the last two buttons. My blouse falls open, revealing a strip of torso from neck to waist, interrupted by the forest green lace of my bra. I undo the tiny buttons at my wrists, releasing the fitted long sleeves. As I go to pull the blouse open, you speak.

“Stop.” I do and wait, my body trembling with anxiety and arousal. You say, “Look at me as you slide it off. I want to see your eyes.”

I take a breath of courage and raise my eyes to yours. My fingers tremble badly as I hold the silk, then slowly pull it off my shoulders and let it fall, to pool in a cloud at my shoes. I watch your eyes go wide as you take in my lace clad breasts, the pretty whorling pattern casting erotic shades over the points of my erect nipples. They aren't big, or pert, but they ache to be held, and I oblige myself, cupping them in my palms and pinching the stiff nipples between my fingers. Your groan is intoxicating, and I gasp as the manipulation of my fingers sends me spiraling higher than I've ever experienced from such a simple caress. You take a step toward me, then stop, your hands curling into tight fists at your sides.

“Keep going.” The strain in your voice is evident.

I think I've figured out what you want. My hands leave my breasts, trailing slowly over the skin of my belly, to the waist of my skirt. The button is in the back, and I make a show of following the thin band to it. I'm enjoying this now, as I feel the heady power of your desire. Before you can even tell me to, I turn to face away from you, so that you can watch as my fingers slowly undo the catch, then the button inside. My body is humming as I slide the zipper quietly down, then my thumbs curl over the band and I bend over at the waist. I slowly pull the skirt over my hips, down my thighs, past my calves, to my heels. I hear you gasp and it makes my insides clench. I guess you weren't expecting the garter belt.

“Christ, you're so fucking beautiful...” your voice is raw need, and I wonder if we'll be able to play this game out to the end.

I stand up straight again, my hands sliding up the sides of my thighs. I turn to face you, and I know exactly what you see, because I picked it out expressly thinking of you. The little green lace thong I'm wearing doesn't do very much for modesty, but rather entices the imagination. The stockings and the garter belt are not something I wear regularly, but the fantasy of you enjoying them made me put them on this morning. I finger one of the clasps as I stare back at you, realizing that my fantasy is right here. I step out of my skirt and proceed to take slow, measured steps toward you, loving the way your eyes widen. This is dangerous.

At the chair you have repositioned, that you are now standing on the other side of, I step out of first one heel, then the other. My fingers unsnap the clasps on the right stocking, and I use the arm of the chair to prop my foot up. I slowly slide the stocking over my skin, gathering it at my ankle, then pulling it off my foot. I drop it on my shoes, then repeat the process with the left. Finally, I grip the garter belt and tug it past my hips and down my legs, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it.

I stand there waiting, my entire body silently screaming for me to end this charade and give it what it wants. Your eyes scorch me on their path over my curves, your intent clear in the way you bite your lower lip.

You say, “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees, facing away from me.”

I obey, looking at you the entire time as I crawl onto the bed, baring my ass to your hungry eyes. You tell me to stop, then to spread my legs out wide. I comply, keenly aware of the soaking wet gusset of my thong.

You move behind me and I feel the bed shift as you lean on it. I hold my breath, the anticipation of your tongue on my pussy driving me to whimper in need. Instead, though, I hear you inhale, even as I feel your breath on the backs of my thighs.

“Jesus, you smell amazing. I want to eat you until you scream,” you say.

My pussy muscles spasm and I arch my back, a high pitched keening leaving my throat. I look over my shoulder and see you bent over behind me, your head poking up past my rear. Your eyes are stormy pools of lust, and I implore you with my own to take what you want. Alas, that's not what this is about. With visible reluctance, you stand up straight again, your whole body flexing with frustration.

“Turn to face me on your knees, and sit on your heels.”

I do as you ask, turning to face you and settling down on my haunches. You stand not two feet away, your hands clenching and releasing. I let my eyes wander over your still dressed body, and I notice the large bulge pressing against the zip of your pants. My mouth waters. I unconsciously lick my lips as I stare at the evidence of your arousal, imagining taking that turgid length between my lips and hearing you groan. I close my eyes, letting my hands cup my breasts and squeeze, tweaking the sensitive little nubs of my nipples. They slide down my body to the top edge of my thong. Unbidden, I open my legs wide, and my fingers trail slowly over the lace to either side of my sensitized little clit. I open my eyes and watch as your hand slowly runs along your hard length.

“Take your clothes off, baby,” I moan. “Let me see you.”

You shrug out of your jacket and toss it at the desk chair. Then you toe off your shoes, kicking them any which way. You tug impatiently at your tie, yanking it off and tossing it away. Your fingers fumble with your shirt buttons, and I ache to help you undress. My fingers tease the edges of my slit as you finish with your shirt, tugging out the tails and shrugging out of it. Your shoulders are nothing short of art; tight, corded muscle held taught under your delectable skin. Your strong chest with its smattering of hair makes me want to run my fingers all over it, teasing the flat nipples into hard points, laving them with my tongue. The tattoo on your left peck is a surprise, but now I just want to trace it with my fingertips.

You whip your belt off, drop it by the chair. Your fingers urgently undo your pants, nearly tearing the zipper in your hurry. Then you drop them and there's only a pair of tight boxer briefs between me and your hard cock. I want it in my hands so I can pleasure you to oblivion. You bend over to remove your socks, then straighten. I can't help myself. I lean forward on my hands, getting as close as I dare. You groan, one trembling finger tracing a path down my cheek. My lips are mere inches away from your thick pole, still encased within that hateful underwear. I moan with frustration.

“Take them off. Please,” I beg.

I look up at you, imploring you with every fiber of my being. Your breath is coming fast as you tuck your thumbs into the elastic waistband and begin slowly pulling your briefs down. I move back as you bend down. You finish disrobing, step out of your underwear, then straighten slowly. My eyes go wide as you stand up again, and I get my first look at your beautiful penis. God in heaven, but you are lovely. I actually coo in admiration, leaning in to catch your male scent. The tip of your cock is weeping precum, and I nearly give in to urge to lick it off. My tongue darts out and hovers centimeters away, and I feel your fingers in my hair. Your grip is strong but gentle, and I aim my eyes up at you. I see your control just barely hanging on, your breaths fast and harsh. You want to shove your big, hard tool in my mouth, to feel me taking you as deep as you'll go, then wrap my lips around you and suck and tongue you until you explode. I want it, too.

I lean away from you and you release my hair, then you step back and sit in the chair. I return to my kneeling position, legs wide, hands roaming over my body. I'm still wearing my lace, so I straighten and reach back to undo the clasp of my bra. You sit back and watch, your hands running down your flat belly and over your thighs, then back up. I watch your cock throb lightly as you skim past it. My pussy clenches in response.

Off comes my bra and I throw it to the side, then my hands are cupping bare flesh. I squeeze and knead the mounds, pinching the nipples as I watch you move closer and closer to your bobbing dick. You hold your legs wide and I can see your sizable sack, and I want to lick and suck at your balls while I pump your shaft with my hands. I moan out loud and blink my eyes slowly.

“Squeeze your balls for me, baby. Just roll them around, so I can watch.”

Your lips kick up into a half smile, and your left hand cups your sack. You moan softly and begin to play with your balls, rolling them in your sure and knowing fingers. Your eyes are on me the entire time, and I watch them glaze over slightly, the pleasure clear in your unfocused gaze. My hands move down my body to my thong, this time tucking my thumbs into the waist and slowly pulling them down. You inhale sharply and your cock bounces as I pull the last of my lace off and toss it with it's partner.

My bald pussy is bare, and with my knees spread wide you can see the glistening wetness that clings to my swollen lips. I watch you as the fingers of my right hand slide over slick skin, just skimming past my clit and slit. You bite your lip and squeeze your balls, your free hand moves to the base of your cock and it's my turn to gasp as you wrap your strong hand around your shaft and give it one slow pump. My fingers move of their own accord, dipping into the source of my honey, and I undulate slowly as they trail up through the wet and over my distended little nub. I circle it lightly, teasingly, the sensations rocketing through my body and dragging a groan from deep inside.

“Fuck, baby. You're so wet. I want in you...”

Your words, the rawness in your voice, burns into me until all I can imagine is being impaled by your thick rod again and again. My finger picks up speed, as my other hand reaches up to fondle a tight nipple. My hips are rocking in gentle rhythm, seeking the hot hardness you're stroking with growing intensity. The one finger at my clit is joined by another and together they squeeze and tease the little pebble. I feel a yawning void inside my pussy, calling to your cock to fill it. I whimper in supreme frustration and growing arousal, my fingers now sliding from my clit to my slit and back again.

Your hand is stroking hard now. The fingers of your other hand pinch the spongy head of your cock occasionally, and that makes you squirm and pump your hips. I feel like I'm dying for your dick, my pussy lips beginning a light quiver. I try to slow myself down, knowing that quiver is a precursor to the big o. The circumnavigation of my fingers slows to half the speed it was, and I moan loudly at the denial. My hips are grinding now, drops of my juice falling on the pristine white coverlet. I stare at your cock and the way you're stroking yourself, a circular sort of upstroke past the head, then straight down to the base. I imagine my hand wrapping around your shaft and guiding you to my sopping wet cunt, then taking you into my heat.

“Mmmm, baby. I so want you to fuck my pussy,” I say. “Fuck me nice and deep. Yeah, fuck my tight little pussy hard, baby.”

I don't even know what I'm saying, I'm so turned on. Half delirious from want, I bring my other hand to my slit and slide two fingers in. My hips buck and I suck in a breath as my pussy clamps around my fingers. It's something, but it's not enough, and I watch you begin to work your hand over your cock like a piston. Your hips are in on the action, too, thrusting into your hand with every down stroke. I pick up your rhythm, rocking my hips down every time your hips thrust up. The fingers on my clit have given up going slow, and I can feel the crest of this wild ride approaching fast.

“Fuck, baby,” you gasp. “I can't hold this back much longer. Come for me, baby. Come for my cock.”

Your hand is a blur on your rod, and my hands are working my hungry little box in tandem. Your words send frissons of sensation straight to my core, and I feel the muscles tightening, tightening. I can't stop humping my hands as I watch you get closer and closer. I want your cock. I need it in me. I want to feel you come inside me, to feel that warmth spread and spill out of my milking pussy. I imagine doing just this, and my world shatters. My orgasm slams into every cell in my body and I cry out your name, my back arching as I continue to work my flesh to higher peaks. Every tightening of my little fuck hole drags another moan from my lips. My hips buck and roll and fingers thrust into my dripping, clenching, tight pussy. My eyes close momentarily as the strongest part of my pleasure rolls over me, and that's when I hear you curse.

“Oh, fuck me!”

I open my eyes and watch as you throw your head back over the edge of the chair, a strangled cry in your throat. Your hand moves down on your cock; everything stills for an instant. Then, your abs scrunch up and your hips buck, and rope after rope of pearly semen shoots from the tip of your cock. The sounds you make are guttural, tortured. It's a beautiful display, so erotic and sensual that it sends my pussy into fresh contractions. I cry out at the intensity of this second onslaught, as I watch you pump the last of your come onto your now messy, sticky chest and belly. My fingers continue to move, prolonging the ecstasy until I simply can't take any more. I lean forward and prop myself on an outstretched hand, my breath shuddering gently in the aftermath of pleasure.

I watch your body relax as you come down from your peak. Your head lolls almost drunkenly to the side, and you give me the most adorable half smile. We stay this way for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, I push myself upright again, my hands sliding over my body languorously. You look down at yourself, chuckling softly at the delicious mess coagulating all over you. I'm so tempted to go over, straddle your legs and lick you clean. Instead, I sigh and bring my legs back together.

This part should feel awkward, but it doesn't. We start slowly pulling ourselves back together. You lean over and grab your briefs off the floor, then with a grunt, lever yourself up onto slightly unsteady feet. Standing by the bed, you stretch out your hand and cup my chin, tracing your thumb over my cheek. I look into your eyes with a smile on my lips as a gentle shiver courses down my spine. I can almost count the number of times you've touched me on one hand, but this one goes beyond the physical. I lean my face into your caress for a moment, falling into the dark pools of your eyes. Then the moment is over and you move to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned up.

I crawl off the bed and dress, taking care with every piece. When you come out of the bathroom, you're wearing your briefs, but nothing else. You run a hand through your short hair, and my fingers itch to do the same. I feel my desire begin building again, and I know if I stay any longer I'll say to hell with our agreement. I walk to the door, all the while holding your eyes. I look away to pick up my purse that was dropped by the door on our way in. I straighten and my hand goes to the door handle; I'm about to open it, when your hand closes over mine. I look up and wonder how you got so close so fast. Your eyes go to my lips, and I swear I can feel your stare.

You say, “Thank you. That was... amazing.” Your fingers thread around mine on the handle.

“Yeah, it was. Truly, it was my pleasure,” I answer. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here.”

I want to kiss you so badly. I unconsciously wet my lips at the thought.

“I'm here for two more days.” I hear the clear invitation in your tone, and my heart begins pounding faster in my chest.

I move a little closer and ask, “So, what you're saying is, you'd like to have lunch tomorrow?” I can feel your breath fanning over my lips.

“Yeah, that's what I'm saying,” you respond. Your eyes are near slits and you stand stone still, letting me choose.

I smile slightly. “Mmm, that sounds like a great idea. I'll even see if I can get the afternoon off.”

Your breath hitches for a moment, your hand squeezes mine and I'm overwhelmed. I lean in the rest of the way, angling my face up, and press my lips to yours in a feather light kiss. It's the softest of pressure, our warm, willing lips rubbing almost reverently over each other. It feels like an eternity, but it's over in a few seconds. I look down for a moment, feeling the hot blush creeping over my cheeks.

I press down on the handle and the door locks disengage. I'm through the door in an instant, as you pull it open for me. I know that you're watching me walk down the hall to the elevators, so I exaggerate the sway of my hips. As I move, I can feel my slick juices coating the insides of my thighs and I wonder with a smile how long it will take you to find the thong I left in your jacket pocket.

We had agreed to no sex while you were in town. In the most technical of definitions, we were still adhering to that agreement. It was going to be interesting to see how far we could push those boundaries, and whether in the end it would matter at all.

For You