Photo Credit: "Sexy Woman" by Michael Vahle on Photobucket
My fantasy lover is the really smart guy--the enlightened man who does not have some major issues with women--who can be the intelligent sex beast I crave behind closed doors—and, yes, I would like it if he were also sweet, funny and adorable sometimes too and could hold me tenderly and make me giggle.
I want him to thrust as deeply as he can into every orifice, to claim me, to leave his mark, but not to ask if he can—to take because he knows I am his on some deep primal level that has nothing to do with domestic arrangements.
So this man I told you about last week in Diary of an Affair, part one, my Facebook contact/fantasy man?: We email. We talk. He sends me photographs and fantasies. I confess my desires. We walk around a thousand miles apart swollen for one another. I have a gallery of his photos on the desktop; and I find myself clicking them open more than once a day. Oh, god, I love chest hair.
Some emails:
“I want your mouth around my cock. I want to hold your head down as I thrust into your mouth, pinching and tugging on your ears, pulling your hair.”
We recognize something in the other that we both need and want that will fulfill us in ways past experiences have not. We are both looking for an intense, wild ride with the right person—yes? Instinctively, we trust one another. We're not fools so we must be on to something.
“YES, YES, YES!”
I want you to indulge your secret fantasies as well as mine--and make me GASP.......
He wrote this story:
It all began as a normal, random act of Facebook. I clicked on a suggestion to "add as friend.” With that click, we connected. We both jumped off the proverbial cliff without even looking down to make sure there was water to land in.
She calls from the airport terminal and says, “I made a reservation at Proof.” Excited does not do justice to the emotions enveloping me. I am ninety minutes away from the first time physical meeting that has been nearly two months in planning. This is an affair of texts and phone calls and release in separate acts of masturbation. And now… I jump in the shower, again, only cold water which does nothing to reduce the energy that is pulsating throughout my body. The flow of the water across my head does give my mind some diverting white noise. I use this as a calming mantra. Without it, I feel that I will spontaneously combust.
I exit the Hay Adams Hotel, her choice, and hail down a taxi, tell the driver the location and wait. As I pass through the restaurant door I am already scanning the room, looking to see if she is here yet. This is a good time and place for the first meeting, mid-afternoon, the lunch crowd gone, the staff unhurriedly setting up for dinner, only two tables occupied. I ask for the reservation under the agreed upon name. He tells me I am the first to arrive and calls a waitress to take me to the table. I sit facing the door, because I do not want to miss her entrance. It feels like an eternity, but only about ten minutes pass before I see her come through the door.
One of the rules in an affair, she said, is no PDA's or Public Displays of Affections. Instead of jumping up from the table and rushing over like a happy puppy, I remain seated as she makes her way toward me. I stand and extend my hand to shake hers, but she pulls me into a hug. She whispers into my ear, "I'm not wearing panties." Fewer, better words are ever heard by a man, in a public place, said by a woman he wants to ravish. We order some appetizers and a bottle of wine and try to make it look like we're having an afternoon business meeting, but the only thing on my mind is getting her naked and plunging my cock deep inside her pussy.
Eating the appetizers seductively, we stare at each other, both wanting to rip clothes off and get down and dirty. We talk in suggestive comments. She gets up to go to the bathroom and returns with her blouse unbuttoned further down—and no bra. I see the round edges of her breasts and her swollen nipples easily visible through the silk. She holds her hand up to my face and says, “Breathe deeply.” The smell of her sexual arousal is delicious.
“You’re being very naughty,” I say. “I might have to provide some education in proper behavior to you.”
Her aquamarine eyes burn hot and her lips part in a sultry way suggesting she wants that teaching. She has confided her desires to me—and she wants to be dominated by a lover who expects her to take his cock any time, any way he wants to thrust it into her, a strong man who understands the judicious use of erotic pain. No holds barred, she wrote, no topping from below, push my erotic limits. My swollen cock presses against my pants. I ask for the check and she excuses herself for the ladies room again. When I sign the receipt and follow in her direction, I see that the ladies room door is slightly open. She is standing just inside the door, her blouse completely open. Checking to be sure no one is watching, I entered the bathroom.
I put my hands around her on her lower back, pull her in close and nuzzle her neck and kiss her deeply. We’ve been waiting so long for this. She grasps my belt. I withdrew from the kiss and move us toward the handicap stall, more room to maneuver.
“I can’t wait any longer,” I say. “I must have you now."
In the corner of the stall so we can use the hand rails, I put my mouth on her breast. I cover her hard nipples, first one, then the other with my lips and suck and tease them with my teeth before biting down on them. She lets out a low soft moan. I open my lips and flick one erect nipple with my tongue while squeezing and twisting the other one—hard. She gasps. I put one hand went below her skirt, slide ut up the back of her leg. She shivers. I bite her nipple again. Lifting the skirt, I alternately caress and sqeeze the curve of her bare ass, while firmly twisting, pulling and pinching her nipple with the other hand.
I push her to her knees. With trembling hands, she pulls down my pants and underpants in one quick move. She wastes no time in sliding her lips around my throbbing cock. The warmth and moistness of her mouth and tongue make my cock even harder. She sucks, simultaneously swirling her tongue around the head. I don't want this to stop, but I can wait no longer to be deep inside her.
I pull her up and wrap her compliant arms around my neck as I raise her skirt and grab hold her ass cheeks. She is totally open to anything I want to do with her. I lift her up and wedge her in the corner, slightly resting her on the hand rails. I watch as she guides my cock into her pussy. Omigod how incredible it feels… my cock parting her drenched pussy lips. She is so hot inside, giving off more heat in her silky wetness than my cock has ever felt inside of a woman. I feel every fold of flesh as my cock penetrates deeper into her. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me in tighter. We furiously thrust against each other. In mere seconds, we are both enveloped by waves of orgasm—but they were seconds that have been held in check for many weeks.
As we leave Proof, the staff tells us, “Please come again soon.”
NEXT WEEK, SUSAN PICKS UP THE FANTASY. SHE IS WAITING FOR HIM IN HIS HOTEL ROOM WHEN HE RETURNS FROM A MEETING. AN OPENING TEASER:
He calls up from the lobby. I check the coffee table to be sure everything is ready for him to choose. A pink leather flogger, the old soft belt I pulled from his jeans, a wooden hairbrush, a thin whippy cane, a wooden spoon, a plastic spatula. What will he use? And will he use more than one implement? My breathing is shallow, erratic. I am fevered. A feeling of erotic dread builds in he pit of my stomach, sending out fiery tentacles to ignite my genitals. I want this. Whatever he will do. I want.
I step out of my skirt and lean forward, resting my elbows on the arm of the sofa. With my feet in four inch heels as wide apart as I can make them, I thrust my ass back and out, to greet him. I hear his key in the door...
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