I must have questioned myself one hundred times that morning. It started during my shower and continued throughout breakfast and the packing afterwards.

"Are you crazy? Is there something wrong with you?" I asked myself out loud. I received no answer.

I placed my suitcase in the trunk of my car and then headed to gas station to top off my tank and get some smokes and road snacks.

"Are you that desperate? Don't you know the risk you're taking?" I asked myself again. As before I had no response.

I was soon on the interstate headed South to the capital and my meeting with Wanderlust, the lady I met on MySpace so many years ago.

She started out as just another faceless female that liked my profile page and requested that I add her. We soon discovered that we shared many similar interests and countless hours were spent chatting on line on these subjects.

I began to feel an attraction to my faceless friend. When MySpace turned to shit she followed me over to MyBoomerPlace where we became each ones number one friend. I remember spending entire weekends just chatting with her.

We finally felt comfortable enough to share our real names, her name was Loni.

Now outside of my real first name I shared little personal information with her, because I didn't really know her. For all I knew she was a minor or a guy pretending to be female and there were no pics of herself in her gallery to confirm her claim of being one hundred percent female.

Her answer to my questioning the lack of a photo was that she never took a decent one. I was able to sympathize with her. It was for the same reason that there were no pictures of myself in my gallery. We did our best to describe each other.

We found out about Skype and created accounts so we could finally speak to each other live. Her voice was soft as silk and she could use it to convey a wide range of emotions. I couldn't wait for the work day to end so I could go home and log onto Skype and talk to her.

The months passed. It was during a conversation where she was enjoying a joke at my expense that changed everything. In mock anger I said something to the effect of, "Bad girl, papa spank."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

That's when the changes started. The normal cutesy-poo images she once sent me took on a more sensual nature. Images of stunning ladies in black lingerie and heels draped across beds and chairs appeared on my page. In many of these pics these females were bound and gagged with everything from handcuffs to nylon stockings.

The perfect rounded bottoms of these ladies were either naked or covered in some tiny panties or a thong. They were always displayed in an up position as if to invite attention in any fashion.

Each image was even more erotic that the previous one. So I located an image site and posted similar images to her page. The difference was there was always males in my images that were touching, kissing or caressing one of the females.

Even our conversations took on an erotic tone.

"I am so horny," she confessed one evening.

"What brought that on?"I asked.

"Your voice," she responded.

"Really?"

"Yes really. Your voice has always made me horny."

I heard a sudden intake of air and I asked if everything was OK.

"Yes, I'm fine.

In fact I'm sliding my fingers into my very wet pussy as you talk," she softly told me.

"Are you naked?"

"No. I am wearing a tiny black satin thong. It's what I always wear when we talk."

"Oh baby," I respond to the image she had just presented and began to get hard.

"Are you naked?" she asked.

"No, I am wearing boxers."

"Cotton or silk?"

"Silk."

"I love the feel of silk boxers against my skin. Do me a favor and let your cock out," she requested.

I complied and soon my rock hard shaft is in the air.

"Are you hard?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Now I want you to grab it and gently stroke it."

I slowly began to stroke myself to the sounds of her breathing and small moans in my ear piece.

"I'll bet that feels good?" she asked in soft voice.

"Yes it does."

"Good. Now close your eyes and imagine its me doing the stroking," she crooned.

I shut my eyes and imagined it was her slender hand around my cock gently pumping it.

"You're so hard," she said in a breathy voice.

"Do you feel my fingers sliding into your pussy?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she moaned a little louder.

"You're so hot and wet," I commented.

"You made it that way."

"Are you wearing a bra?" I asked.

"Yes. It's black silk. You said you like ladies in black lingerie," she responded.

"Yes I do. Can you feel me rubbing your tits through it?"

"Oh yes, yes," she moaned.

"Are your nipples hard?" I questioned.

"A little."

"Lets see if I can make them really hard. Do you feel me unfastening it?" 

"Yes I can. Please suck on them," she begged.

"Do you feel my lips and tongue on your hard nipples?" I asked.

"Oh yes. Don't stop, please don't stop. I'm almost there," she moaned louder.

"Loni, I can't hold out much longer," I managed to tell her.

"Then don't. I am ready to cum too."

I gave a deep growl and lost my load on the front of my boxers. Loni called my name several times and then with a long low moan she went over the edge.

That's when the idea to meet was born and we spent weeks planning it. Once again we did our best to assure each other that we were not some gross overweight ugly people.

Since we both lived three hours from the state capital it was decided that would be our destination. I allowed her to pick the hotel and she chose a well known chain in the center of town. I would reserve the room and meet her in the bar.

"Now all that is left is when you want to meet," I told her.

"The sooner the better," she responded.

So now here I am heading toward the capital and my meeting with Wanderlust.