5 comments/ 16731 views/ 3 favorites Chicago By: gapster7 It was one of those visual images that had stuck with me for twenty years: flying across Lake Michigan at night, window seat, watching the thin line of lights on the western horizon slowly unfold, brighten and expand. Chicago: a giant wheel of lights, moving and stationary, radiating from the hub; defined and edged by the inky black void of the lake. So it was with great excitement that I looked out the window again last night, the sky a bit hazier than my memory, but the lights that I remembered from several decades ago were again looming in the distance. As the jet pulled over the shoreline and began its descent into O'Hare, I looked out at the massive pancake of a city, pulsing with light, throbbing with life, and thought about how you were down there somewhere, among the millions, waiting for my arrival. How these random human connections are made will always remain somewhat of a mystery to me. The next 18 hours would fly by: long taxi ride to the hotel downtown, good night's sleep, and meetings the next day. I went through the paces, but the thought of our impending date was never far from my thoughts. I had looked at my watch far too many times during the day, hoping I wasn't conveying a sense of impatience to my clients. But the truth was, I was jumping out my skin with the anticipation of meeting you in person. Our e-mails, instant messaging sessions and phone calls had escalated in temperature over the past few weeks, culminating in an IM session several nights ago that had left us both breathless and unable to type. You had pussy juice dripping off your fingers onto the keyboard; I had been careful not to spray cum all over mine. But as exciting and hot as our cyber and phone conversations had been, they paled in comparison to the potential heat awaiting us both this evening. It had all started innocently enough. You had e-mailed me about an online erotic story I'd written – telling me how you loved the way I wrote about sucking nipples. Well, it's hard to ignore or not respond to an e-mail like that. One e-mail had led to another, the sexual innuendoes and tension slowly building, to a point that we ended up on an instant messaging site and cyber-fucked one another's brains out. It had been very intense. You had some experience in this mode of sexual expression; I had none. But I caught on quickly and we had some mind-blowing sessions. I was in awe of your sexual energy and your ability to express yourself in terms both sensual and downright dirty. We pushed one another's limits and had begun to build a relationship that seemed to transcend the electronic connection of the internet. We had moved onto phone sex and that had opened up a whole new world to me. You, again, had some experience in this area and I was a neophyte, but a willing student. Our phone sessions had become so intense that we both had a hard time breathing. I had never imagined that sex, without actually touching or entering someone, could be so intense or so pleasurable. As our sessions had intensified and our interest in one another grew, an actual face to face meeting suddenly seemed quite logical. We had bandied about the idea, but were afraid that the reality might not meet our lofty expectations or that we might not feel the same physical attraction in the flesh that we felt online. But something told us both that this was the logical thing to do and we had embraced this meeting and anticipated its impending arrival. And that evening is now here and my pulse is racing. We had spoken on the phone briefly last night and I had sensed the nervousness in your voice, perhaps amplified by the hesitation in my own. I patter about the hotel room after showering, getting dressed, neatening up the hotel room with the thought that you will be here before the evening is over. I can't believe I'm so nervous. But I take a deep breath and remind myself that over the months we have shared our deepest desires and there is little we haven't written or spoken about. Still, there is the tension of finally presenting our physical selves to one another, devoid of the distance and anonymity that cyberspace allows. Tonight we will come face to face, and while we've shared photos, had endless phone conversations and written volumes, the senses of sight, smell and touch have been mute. Tonight we will finally look into one another's eyes and touch one another's skin, and the thought is both daunting and intoxicating. I look at my watch for the hundredth time today and realize, finally, it's time to go. I throw on my sport coat, look around the room one final time, check for my wallet and head out the door, a lump in my throat. It seems like a long ride down from the 28th floor, but the doors soon part and I head across the lobby to the bar. It seems like a good idea to meet in the hotel's bar and then have dinner in the restaurant as well. I'm a few minutes early, but I like the idea of staking out a couple of seats at the bar and getting the lay of the land. I find two bar stools at the end of the long curved wooden bar, order myself a Grey Goose gimlet on the rocks and fortify myself with a sip. I survey the scene and feel comfortable that this will be a nice, quiet and very private venue for our first meeting. I'm peering over the rim of my glass, feeling the rush of vodka and lime juice, when I see you enter. I put my glass down on the bar and smile. You see me immediately and smile back. I am awestruck. Your petite body moves toward me. You are dressed in a slinky short black dress that hugs your body. The black silk contrasts beautifully with your dark skin and complements your black hair. The thin spaghetti straps look alluring and your high heels give a sexy sway to your walk. We grin at one another like Cheshire cats. You reach the bar and we lean together to kiss cheeks. I detect a subtle aroma of violet and my head spins. I help you scoot onto the bar stool and admire all the thigh showing from your short dress. I sneak a peek at your lovely breasts and think of all the fun we've had fantasizing about them; about me licking them and sucking on your sensitive nipples. "Hello, Molly," I say, attempting to sound cool, calm and collected. "Hi, Joe," you say with a sweet smile. "What can I get you?" "White wine. It's so nice to finally meet you." "A glass of the Verdicchio, please," I say to the bartender. "Nice to meet you too, Molly. I can't tell you how nervous I've been." I breathe a deep sigh. The bartender puts a tall thin goblet of chilled white wine on the bar, we grab our glasses and toast. "To new friendships," I say. "And to tonight," you add. We settle into a comfortable patter, the alcohol soothes the transition and before long we're rattling on like we're old friends, which we are in a way. I sneak admiring glances at your body, your dark skin, slinky dress, round breasts. I can feel you checking out my slender wiry frame as well. My mind races with graphic thoughts of what's to come. You look fantastic in black and the silver cuff bracelet you've worn is a beautiful accent. You're eyes sparkle with wit and intelligence. This is no surprise to me; I knew how smart you were from the first time you had contacted me. But it's so tantalizing to see it, hear it, know it, in the flesh. The maitre'd lets us know our table is ready. We grab our glasses and I follow you to our table, watching your sweet round ass sway as you walk; wondering what you will look like naked. We are led to a table for four in the corner; I sit to the side so we aren't conversing over a large table. I'm closer to you this way as well. Dinner is fabulous and our wide-ranging conversation circles around myriad topics: work, travel, books, movies, politics, music. The alcohol warms our spirits, the food sustains us, and the night is alive with expectation. As you curl your delicate fingers around the stem of your wine glass, I reach out my fingers and lightly touch your hand. "I'm not really in the mood for dessert, Molly. Are you?" I inquire. "Not really." You pause. "What are you in the mood for, Joe?" you ask with a sly grin. "Well, let's see?" My hand goes below the tablecloth and finds your knee. Your skin is warm and smooth. I stroke your inner thigh just above your knee. "I thought I'd take you up to my room and open a nice bottle of Barolo I've got stashed upstairs." You smile and put your hand on mine and push it up your thigh a little higher. I look around the restaurant, but we have quite a bit of privacy in the corner and our under-table shenanigans will not be noticed. "I'm going to stroke you and caress you, take your clothes off very slowly. And I mean very slowly. I want to savor unveiling your body, piece by piece, until you're naked and completely exposed to me. Then I'm going to lick and kiss every square inch of your body. I want to gently suck your nipples, feel them stiffen on my tongue. I want to nibble my way along your thighs, kissing and licking, making you wet." I pause to see if this talk is having any effect on you; it's certainly having an effect on me as I squirm to adjust my raging erection. You have a seductive smile on your face and your lips are slightly parted. My hand goes further up your inner thigh, savoring the texture of your smooth skin. "I'm going to adore your pussy with my mouth and fingers and gently suck on your throbbing clit. I'm going to turn you on and arouse you to a point that you are begging me to fuck you. And then..." I pause and look at you. "Then, what? What are you going to do to me?" you ask in a whisper. I lean toward your ear. "I'm going to fuck you harder and longer and deeper than anyone has ever, EVER, fucked you, Molly. So good and long and deep. You're going to come so hard – and so am I – deep inside you. And I'm going to do it all night long, and again tomorrow – several times. Maybe we won't even leave the bed tomorrow. Maybe we'll just suck and fuck all day long – tell stories, talk, take showers, order room service, stroke one another, learn about one another's bodies – and then fuck some more – sometimes nice and slow and tender – sometimes in a pounding frenzy. I can't wait to fuck you, Molly. I've wanted this for so long." "Let's go, Joe," you say as you throw down your napkin. "I would, but, I have a little, no, a big problem." I point south. "I need to get rid of this first." "Ha!" you giggle. "If you had a bucket of cold water to throw on me right now, that might help. Or we could talk about accounting practices or baseball statistics. How about those Cubbies?" You laugh and squeeze my hand. "You've made me wet with all your talk, Joe. Really wet. We need to go. Now." "Tell you what. This sucker is not going down any time soon. I have a sport coat. I'll place it in front of me and we'll ease out the door. Okay?" "Sure. Let's go," you say with a wicked smile. You stand up and lead the way. I make an attempt to cover my hard-on, but the loose linen trousers I have on do nothing to help hide my excitement. I fold the jacket over my wrist and walk awkwardly out of the restaurant. You turn and laugh at my predicament, but in a minute we're in the lobby and headed for the elevator. We share it with another couple who looks bored and numb. I smile knowing what's coming for us. You snuggle next to me and put your hand on my ass. The other couple gets off on the 19th floor and the door closes. We share a deep wet kiss. The doors open and we scamper off the elevator and down the hall, holding hands like two kids in a candy store. You look so delectable; I just want to eat you up. I slide the key card in and we enter. You whistle. "Nice place. This is really, really nice. Oh, and what a view?" You saunter over to the window. The room looks south over Grant Park and the lights of the Loop stretch before us. They roll into the distance and bend eastward with the curve of the lake, looking like a shimmering necklace stretching toward Gary and beyond. I pour two glasses of the rich red wine, adjust the lights and bring you a glass as you stand by the window. We toast silently, take a sip and put our glasses down. I move behind you and gently place my hands on your bare shoulders. Even in your sexy heels the top of your head only comes up to my chin. I'm so turned on by your petite body. I lean in, pull your thick black hair together in my left hand and place my lips ever so gently on the nape of your neck. I give you a kiss, then trace my lips up your neck, nuzzling in under your ear lobe. "I need you so bad, Molly. I need all of you. Every single square inch," I whisper into your ear. You moan almost imperceptibly as I kiss up and down the right side of your neck; wet kisses that leave a faint trail of saliva on your skin. I nibble your earlobe and breathe lightly into your ear. I run my hands, barely touching your skin, along your shoulders, down your arms, and place them on your belly, your sweet belly. I pull you into my hardness, cantilevered out at a ridiculous angle against your back – so hard and stiff and ready to be deep inside your pussy. You turn and our lips meet. Yours are so soft, wet and open. We kiss, gently at first, tongues swirling and licking. Time seems like it's standing still. You reach down and stroke by cock through my pants – it's poking very unceremoniously into your upper stomach – and I moan deeply into your ear. I put my hands on either side of your face as we kiss. I reach down and cup your sweet buns and pull you to me, feeling you gasp as we press together; my cock a stiff protrusion tucked between our compressed bodies. I kiss your face, your ears, your neck, and my hands wander down from your shoulders and gently caress your silk clad breasts. I lower the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders, then I reach behind to find the zipper, and I lower it, slowly. I pull the dress downward, and you step out of it, looking me in the eye. You are wearing a black strapless bra and your round breasts look like they want to explode out of the delicate fabric. Your black lace panties look exquisite in the soft light, descending tightly into a delicate puffy silk mound at your center. "Take me, Joe. I need your fuck," you groan as I caress your exquisite body. I pull you back toward the bed. I sit down and your bra-clad breasts are there, level with my eyes as you stand before me in your heels, bra and panties. I reach behind and unhook your bra. I hold it in place, however, and gently lick the exposed part of your upper breasts, nuzzling my way closer and closer to your nipples. I lean back and gently let the bra fall away. For the first time your beautiful breasts are exposed. They are exquisite and just the way you had described them. The brown aureolae are crowned by dark distended nipples, hard with excitement and anticipation. I smile with the realization that they are what connected us in the first place. "Oh my God, Molly. You're so beautiful," I stammer. "These are for you, Joe. Suck me." I lightly trace their outline, using the softest touch imaginable, barely skirting the delicate skin of your breasts. My palm lightly presses against your nipples and I feel you squirm with excitement. "Feed them to me, Molly." You place your hand under your left breast and lift it to my waiting mouth. My tongue projects forth and lightly licks the tip – so softly and gently. I hear you catch your breath. I purse my lips around the entire areola and suck in, sliding my tongue along the nipple tip in my mouth. I hear you gasp. I kiss and suckle your breasts, wet noises emanating from our union. You lift the other breast and I pay attention to your right breast, again licking and caressing with soft wet strokes of my tongue and lips. The tips are hard and firm and so sensitive. I can feel my slightest lick send a tremble through your body. I lick on your nipple, then blow air onto it. I suck it in just a little, then blow softly to create a little pressure. I can feel your body reacting and I can already smell the sweet aroma of your excitement – letting me know you are ready for me, ready for more. While I'm sucking your breasts my hands wander down to your lower regions. I feel your lacy panties encasing your treasure and want them gone. I squeeze your cheeks and feel the soft fullness of your round bottom. I continue to lick and suck your nipples, using lots of saliva, as I hook my fingertips into the top of your panties and begin to pull down, slowly sliding them along your smooth brown thighs. You step out of them and now stand before me in only your sexy black heels. I pull you back to me, your breasts protruding proudly, right at mouth level. As I return to sucking and licking your breasts my hands move to your tummy and begin a slow descent. My right thumb slides down over your tuft of pubic hair to find the top of your slit where I gently begin to rub your clit. My left hand slides up your inner thigh, so soft, and nestles its way into your crotch, feeling the slickness of your juices lubricating my advance. I gently insert my left middle finger and wiggle it as I massage your clit with my right thumb and suck your sweet hard nipples. You moan in approval and pull my head into your bosom. "Oh, yes! Suck my nipples, Joe. They're all for you, baby. Suck them!" And I do, with relish. I can feel your hips gyrating to my manual rhythm and can hear the squishy sounds my hands are making. Your breasts are covered in my saliva as my tongue whirls around and, every once in awhile, my lips purse and pull your nipple gently into my mouth where I flick it with my tongue. I'm making wet slurpy sounds as I continue to adore your glorious nipples. You are very turned on now and I'm right there with you. I feel it's time to move on. "Turn around, Molly. Let me see your sweet ass, baby," I implore. You turn and I gaze at your lovely bottom. "Spread your legs a little and put your hands on your knees." You part your legs and lean forward. The view of your ass is awe-inspiring and I note the subtle aroma of your sex as it boggles my brain. Words escape me as I am totally lost in the moment. I massage your ass cheeks and can hear the stickiness of your lips as they part wetly with my kneading. I can see the tight pucker of your anus. I reach between your legs and cup your mons with the palm of my hand. I feel how wet you are already and hear you moan as the pressure of my palm compresses your fleshy labia, so warm, so full of promise for the evening unfolding. I jump up off the bed, spin you around so you're facing the bed and tell you to lean forward onto the mattress. You lean on your elbows, your ass in the air. I kneel on the floor, my face even with your hips. I can see the gaping lips of your sex, open from behind, begging me to suck them into my hungry mouth. Your lips are a beautiful brown color, rich ridges of light chocolate. But inside, I see the moist bright pink of your deepest recesses, waiting for my tongue. I begin to lick. I lick your thighs; I lick your ass, my tongue circles around and into your anus. All the while my hands are sliding over your ass and thighs, admiring the smooth silky texture of your skin. You push your ass into the air more and my tongue slithers and finds the warm moist slit of your pussy. I slide my tongue up and down your lips, licking your juices, soaking them up into my mouth. I push my tongue as far into your vagina as I can, tasting your goodness, feeling you gush with excitement. I'm suffocating in the warm folds of your fleshy lips, my nose sunken deep in your luscious labia. You're moaning and telling me to push my tongue deeper. I slurp and lick and the sounds of my oral ministrations and the pungent aroma of your secretions fill the air with lust and pleasure. Chicago I spread your ass with my hands and lick the gaping pink gash of your sex, then bring my pointed tongue up to poke the cute pucker of your ass. You moan with desire and I move my hands down to continue pleasuring your pussy. You push your ass into the air, your face turned to the side on the bed, mouth open, eyes closed in ecstasy. I return my tongue to your inner lips and begin to lick in earnest as my left thumb massages your clit and the right thumb slides into your ass up to the first knuckle. You let out a deep guttural groan and tell me not to stop. "Oh God, Joe. Suck my pussy. Eat me deep!" you moan. I get into stride, feeling your body bounce and hump to the rhythm of my licking and rubbing. Your moaning indicates that I've found a groove and I don't let up. I begin to groan into your pussy as I feel your body tense. My left thumb is moving in a tight rhythmic circle on your clit as I lap at your soaking wet pussy, sucking on your lips and moving my tongue from one end to the other, my right thumb still firmly ensconced in your butt. I feel you start to breathe erratically when all of a sudden you climax with a sudden spasm. Your hips lift high off the bed, your legs stiffen and I maintain my steady oral and manual moves. I feel your cunt clench over and over again on my tongue, your ass squeezing my thumb like a vice, and your juices flowing all over my face in a waterfall of love. You collapse onto the bed. "Oh, Joe," you mumble. After a minute or two of recuperation you get up on your knees on the bed and wave your hands toward the bed. "Lie down," you direct. "I need to suck your cock." No argument from me on that one. I lay down on my back, head on the pillows, and you lean toward my ear, your full breasts and stiff brown nipples dangling above me. My erection is fully engorged, standing skyward at an angle, looking like a rocket ready to blast off. "I'm going to suck your gorgeous cock, Joe. I need your cock so bad. I want you to come in my mouth, Joe. I want to taste your sweet cum. I want to be your slut, baby," you gasp. You crawl back between my legs and bend down to administer to me. I watch as you take my cock in both of your hands and caress it; looking at it lovingly. I love the site of your small hands wrapped tenderly around my thick shaft. You reach down to gently squeeze my balls with one hand while you lightly stroke me with the other. I love the way you caress me with such a soft and delicate touch. My prick feels like it has a steel rod inside it. "Suck my cock, Molly. I want to feel your lips around me. I want to fill your mouth," I manage to stammer. You lean down lovingly and take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head as you grasp the base with your right hand. You look into my eyes with the smile of a vixen. You begin to bob your head slowly, sucking in two to three inches of my dick. Your mouth is full of saliva and I can sense the tenderness and desire with which you suck. I feel your tongue wash the underside of the head of my cock while it's firmly ensconced in your mouth. You scoot down lower and bring my balls tenderly into your mouth; first one, then the other; using the flat of your tongue to caress the smooth shaven skin of my ball sacs. I'm in heaven. "Oh, Molly, baby. I love what you're doing. Keep sucking, babe. So good." "I love your cock, Joe; your big hard cock. I want you to come in my mouth." You begin to suck with more intensity. The hand at the base begins to slide up and down to coincide with your mouth. Your other hand kneads my balls with just the right amount of pressure. As much as I want to fuck you, I'm powerless to your desire to suck me dry. I lay back and watch your head bob on my dick, slurping and gagging as you try to take me as deep as you possibly can. The site of your small mouth stretching to accommodate my cock is so erotic. Both hands are working my shaft and massaging my balls. I've never felt such lust and desire from any woman sucking me in the past. You're moaning loudly, a pleading whimper, begging for my cum. You look up into my eyes and I feel myself start to go. "I'm going to come, Molly! I'm going to..." Then, from deep inside my being, a huge spurt of semen gushes out of my cock directly and deeply into your mouth. It's followed by another and another. Streams of semen are pulsing into your mouth. You choke ever so slightly on the sheer volume of cum, but never stop sucking and wringing me dry. After the fifth spurt, I exhaust the breath I've been holding and moan. "Holy fuck, Molly." You smile and I watch gobs of hot white cum drip from your lips and down onto your brown nipples, still hard and distended. My cock is a glistening shaft of cum and saliva. "That was so good, baby. Thank you." "Glad you liked it, Joe. You taste wonderful. Mmmm. I'm going to have to do that again before the night is over." "Be my guest." You come up to join me on the bed and cuddle up against my torso. We wrap our arms and legs around each other and enter into that soft phase of post-orgasm bliss. We talk, laugh, joke, stroke, fondle. I've completely blown my wad so I am going to need a bit of a reset phase. But before long we begin to talk about sex, about what we like, what turns us on, past experiences. This is all fueled by the thought that we have two more days together – no place to go, no deadlines, no time pressures – just two days of endless sexual exploration. We had discussed the possibility of this meeting being a bust. Who is to say how two people will actually interact once they meet for the first time? We had accounted for the fact that one or the other of us might want to cut our liaison short. But we can both tell now, without verbalizing it, that there isn't a remote chance in hell that either one of us is going anywhere for the next 36 hours. Now we're comfortable in the thought that we'll be sharing this bed, and room, for what, we hope, will feel like an eternity. While we're talking you're gently palming my cock, tracing the veins and lightly running your fingers over my balls. I'm tracing the lines of your nipples with the tips of my fingers and planting little nibble kisses on your neck. Slowly, as we talk and whisper about sex and our desire for one another, the blood begins to flow again into my nether regions. You feel the tumescence and giggle. "Someone is coming back to life." I reach down and cup your mound and feel the warm moistness. I squeeze and can hear the slick sounds of your gathering lubrication. "Feels like a two way street to me," I retort. I slide my right middle finger into your hole and the slippery warm flesh engulfs my digit. I hear you gasp ever so slightly as I slowly slide my finger in and out. I pull out and trace the oily ridges of you labia until the very tip of my finger finds your swollen clit. It's protruding ever so slightly from your hood and I trace the soaking wet tip of my finger back and forth, rubbing it in tiny slow circles. You moan, arch your back and lift your hips off the bed. I begin to rub quickly now, my finger almost fluttering over your most sensitive nub. Your eyes are closed and you're clenching the bed covers with both hands. Then with one fell swoop I slide my finger back into your pussy, the base of my hand slapping against your mound. You gasp and cry out. You're too wet for one finger so I quickly slide another finger in to join the party. They fit snugly into your slick warm folds. I begin a steady deep penetration, dipping back and around to find your g-spot. My rhythm becomes faster and faster, and within a minute I'm propped up on my left elbow while I begin to finger you with deep rapid thrusts. You're so wet that the palm of my hand makes a wet slapping sound with each insertion. "Come for me, baby. Come on my fingers." The sloppy slick sounds of my digital penetration and the incredible speed of my finger fuck finally drives you over the edge. As you let out an almost otherworldly cry, I feel your vagina clench rhythmically on my fingers as your hips lift off the bed and your breathing stops for just a few seconds. I feel you begin to ebb and I slow down, gradually, bringing you back to earth. I can tell that your clit is sensitive so I withdraw my fingers and tenderly cup your fleshy wet mound with the palm of my hand, applying gentle pressure and whispering in your ear. "Damn, Molly. You are so fucking hot. So amazingly fucking hot." I stroke your body as you recover from your intense orgasm, your breathing slowly resuming to normal. I lean down to kiss you lightly on the mouth. Your lips part slightly and our tongues lazily explore one another. I continue to run my hands over your curves, just barely brushing over your nipples, still hard and distended. You lean up on one elbow. "I need you inside me now," you say, matter-of-factly. You reach down and your tiny hand wraps around my thickness. You stroke me calmly and slide your hand down to massage my balls. I am hard as a rock and so ready. "That can be arranged," I reply. You lie back on the bed and spread your legs, not letting go of my erection. "Fuck me!" you say in a tone that lets me know you mean business. I gather myself up from the bed and kneel between your spread legs. I place my hands on either side of your torso and lean down to kiss you full on the lips. Our mouths open and we kiss deeply and wetly. Your hands reach down and stroke me with purpose. I can feel your need. "Now," you whisper. I pull back and bring my hips forward, my hard prick protruding stiffly below. You guide me to your slick hole and gasp slightly as I place the bulbous head at your entry – so wet and ready for my cock. You rub your clit with my tip and I can feel your wetness. You finally place me at the foyer of your cunt and I lean in and insert an inch, maybe two. You let go of my cock and place your hands on my ass, pulling me toward you. I resist, however, as I want to take you nice and slow to start. I pull out so I'm barely engaged, then slide in the same amount, before withdrawing again. Slowly, so slowly, I begin a back and forth motion, my hips delivering my cock to you in short doses, a half inch at a time. We look into one another's eyes as I slide back, then re-enter a little more. I can feel your pussy lips slide with my movements and cling to the veined flesh of my erection. So slow and wet and nice. I can feel your hips rocking below, trying to entice me to come in deeper. Letting me know that I can impale my cock into you any time I want. I will, but I want to take my time and enjoy the slow deliberate insertion. "More. Come on. Deeper," you insist. "You want it all, Molly?" "Yes. Give me your fucking cock, Joe. Hurry up." I begin to increase the pace, but I'm still only a little over half inside you. I continue at a slightly faster pace, but still holding back. I wait as the temperature rises and I feel your liquids gathering and your pussy opening, ready for my length. I spread my knees so I have maximum leverage and control, speed up the pace and get ready for a full descent. "You ready for me, Molly?" "Yes, Goddamnit! Fuck me!" And no sooner are your words out then I slam it home. I sink my cock in deep, to the hilt, slamming my pubic bone into yours. You let out a guttural sound as I stay deep and wiggle my hips in a circle to grind my cock into your furthest depths. You clutch my clenched ass cheeks with both hands and pull me in. I grind in a circular motion, pull out slowly, inch by inch, then slam it home again. You are so wet and open to me and we are joined in a wet, slick union of sex and sweat. We both look down at our junction; watching my thickly veined cock stretch and pull the full lips of your labia as I move in and out, my shaft shiny with your juice. I pull out again, then slide back in, pull out and then back in. I gyrate my hips rather than fucking you straight on; loving the swirling motion and the grinding sexual flow of our bodies. Ever so slowly I increase the pace and straighten out the motion. I push up on my hands so the top of my cock is in more direct contact with your clit. I begin to fuck you fully and deeply, pulling out with each stroke so my cock is barely in your hole, then slamming it home deeply with each thrust. "Oh shit! Fill me, Joe! Fuck me!" you scream. We begin to get into a rhythm, but I keep increasing the pace, faster and faster. You are breathing heavy and so am I. "I love fucking you, Molly. I love sliding my cock deep into your wet pussy. So fucking hot." I thrust hard and begin to pump even faster. I'm poised above, supporting myself on my straightened arms and my knees. My hips are flying at an intense rate as I begin to fuck you as hard and fast as I can, pumping into your cunt at a furious and unsustainable pace. You are exhaling with each thrust and sweat is pouring off my brow and onto your upper chest. I close my eyes, rear back and begin to fuck you harder and faster than I've ever fucked anyone in my life. It feels like we're being transported off the bed, bouncing back and forth, our bodies coming together in a deep wet union of lust and uncontrollable desire. I feel an explosion girding itself deep within my body. I tell you I'm going to come as I lay my body on yours, nuzzle my face into your neck and begin the final intense thrusting, knowing I'm bringing you along to a climax that will send us both over the edge. I moan into your ear with hot breath as I feel my first spurt of semen shoot deep into your cunt. Simultaneously, I feel your pussy clench on my cock, the spasms of your own orgasm rippling through your body into mine, squeezing the cum out of me.. Each deep thrust unleashes another blast of hot white cum as I fill you with my fuck and your body shakes and spasms with your own explosion of secretions. We suddenly become aware of our position, sweat pouring off our bodies, our breathing heavy and erratic. I stop moving and leave my tumescence buried deep in your wet hole, our bodies heaving and recovering as one. I role off of you, our bodies finally separating, and fall onto a heap on the bed. You snuggle up to me as we entwine our limbs and nuzzle into one another's neck. We giggle and laugh at the events that have unfolded in the past few hours. We lay in one another's arms with the peaceful thought that we have nowhere to go, nothing to do, no schedule or time pressures – only our body clocks. We can sleep when we feel like it, shower when the time is right, and fuck at a moment's notice. It's as if we've stepped off the crazy carousel of life, if only for a few days. Tomorrow we will play it by ear; spend the whole day in bed, if that's what we feel like. Or take a walk down to the Lake. Or talk and tell stories. Or fuck. "Sure glad I answered your e-mail," I whisper quietly. "Me too," you giggle. We slowly nod off. Chicago Online lovers meet for the first time in Chicago. * * * * * Click Here to listen. (20 min/mp3) * * * * * Chicago 2035 Author's note – be forewarned – not only is this non erotic, it is also very, very politcal. Hopefully it may make you think about the consequences of what some are wishing for. Chicago 2035 "Did you hear?" it was whispered to me as I entered the office building on that dreary Tuesday morning. Even as I was removing my smog mask someone else came buy and asked, "Did you hear the news?" I nodded politely and said nothing more as I folded up my acid rain poncho and stuffed it into its sack, then, elevators not working as usual, made my way up ten flights of stairs to the accounting department where I attempted at supervising. "Hello Tom," frowned one of my minions. "You're not scheduled to be here today." Before I had a chance to reply and tell her that it was too bad I was there and that she would actually have to do at least a little bit of work that day, another came by and asked, "Did you hear about Jeff?" "Yes, yes I did. That's why I had to come in today. Human resources wants to see me in person for some reason." "Can I have his desk?" asked someone. "Why? What's wrong with yours?" "He sat next to the window." "And you want to see all that smog and acid rain? It's bad enough I have walk in it. I'd rather not have to look at it all day long," I replied. "It will be up to human resources." "You walked?" asked another. "Had no choice. My wife Susan took the moped this morning and I didn't see any jitney's so I walked. That's why I'm late." Not that anyone cared, least of all those who worked for me. On days when they didn't work from home, hardly anyone was ever on time. Management certainly didn't seem to care and I had no idea why I did. "I thought you and your wife each had one?" "We did but one was stolen months ago and what with gas now being over $50 a gallon and both of us working mostly from home, we thought we could get away with just one. Unfortunately she had to go into her office today and it's too far for her to walk, almost nine miles, so she took the moped and I walked six miles." With that little explanation, I sat down in my cubicle and attempted to sort things out. My meeting in human resources wasn't for another hour and there was little work that couldn't wait. I wanted to clear out Jeff's cubicle but realized that would not be a good idea. What if I did and the police came and something was missing? I checked my emails and found one from the legal department warning me not to do just that. Leave it up to the police. It was not our job. I wasn't sure if the rest of my staff was aware so I forwarded it to everyone who was there that morning. "Did you hear about Jeff?" whispered another as she came by. "He caught the bus on Saturday." I could not hold back my slight laugh. "It's not funny!" she chided me. "Now I'll have to train another." "First of all, I'm laughing at the euphemism. I mean there haven't been buses in ten, fifteen years, at least not public transit buses like when I was growing up." No, there hadn't been any public transit in a long, long time. The Tea Party, no make that The Party, had seen to that. Everything and anything that government did had been cut back or cut out. "Secondly, no you won't be training anyone. You barely know how to log into the computer system. I think we're probably over staffed as it is." "But there's so much work to do. We really need more help." "Well, if the help we have wouldn't spend so much of the company's time social networking, we might actually get some of that work done," I said to the young idiot woman who probably spent over half her day tweeting and networking, and that was on those rare days she was even in the office. At least my comment got her away from me. The really sad thing was that she was actually one of the more competent ones I had working for me. She actually knew a debit from a credit and had some idea of how to fix some of the routine mistakes that other people made. I made my way over to Jeff's cubicle and looked at it. The police had already been there as there was tape all around it with big warnings on it not to tamper with anything. "They were here bright and early yesterday morning," explained Eric who sat in the next cubicle over. He was one of my regulars who actually came to work most mornings. He told everyone that he actually preferred to go to work rather than telecommute. There were two toddlers at home and they made it almost impossible for him to get anything done. I looked at Jeff's desk but dared not touch anything. It was uncommonly neat. Everything was tidy. The small "in" basket was empty as were the "out" and the "pending." He had cleaned up everything on Friday and left nothing for anyone to do. "He knew," I said a loud. "What?" asked Eric. "Jeff knew Friday what he was going to do. He finished everything." "I didn't notice," he replied. "I actually wasn't here for a change." "Nor was I and to be honest, even if I had been, would I have thought it odd or out of the ordinary?" I looked out his window and winced at the sight of all that smog and pollution. "Look at that. No wonder he did it." "I got some pictures covering mine," explained Eric. "The only way I can stand it. I wonder what the view would have been like back when there were still environmental regulations? I heard there was hardly any smog here." He, unlike I, was too young to remember those days. "Blue skies and on a good day, you could see for miles. On the other side of the building, you could even see Lake Michigan. In the summer, people would even swim there." "Not now," he laughed. "Go for a swim now and you'll never come out alive." "Well, I'd better go see human resources," I shrugged and began the trek up four flights of stairs and into the inner sanctum of the corporation I worked for. I was a few minutes early but the manager himself, Fred Tompkins was waiting for me. "Someone from legal is on the way down," he explained as he offered me a chair and some bottled water. I was honored. It was rather expensive stuff from Europe and I wondered how I rated it. "Why is legal involved?" I asked politely but I was pretty sure I knew the answers. "He committed suicide so the police are investigating." "You mean the real police or the morality police?" "MP's of course." I merely nodded. "There aren't any where near enough real police to track down my stolen moped but there are plenty enough of them to investigate suicides." "They think he may have had help." "Whatever for? I assumed he would have used a gun." It was society's dirty little secret. Almost anyone could get a gun. They were so common that it was just assumed that everyone was carrying one. The argument had been that if everyone was armed, criminals would be reluctant to accost people and rob them. Instead, it just increased the number of accidental shootings and made it easier for anyone to kill themselves or anyone else for that matter. "He was listed you know," meaning he was on a list, a rather secret list, of those who could not own guns. "I didn't know. I assumed he had a gun like everyone else." Including myself I might add. I had even taken a course in school on gun handling and had a certificate, though that meant little those days. "Why was he listed?" "He was," and here he paused and almost tried not to say the word as if he was waiting for me to say it and acknowledge that I knew. "A homosexual," he spat out the word in disgust. "You didn't know?" "Why would I?" "He worked for you for eight years! You gave him raises! Good lord, you can't tell me you didn't know?" "Again, why would I? He came to work. He did an excellent job, better than I do honestly and kept to himself. He never said anything to me any more than anyone else there does. Ask the others. They'll tell you." "Well, legal wants to know why you didn't report him. For your sake, I really hope that you didn't know." I wondered if that was a threat or just another bluff as we were joined by one of the corporate lawyers who was not introduced. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid or honored and decided I didn't care one way or the other. I knew that no one knew that I knew Jeff had been gay. He would never have told anyone that I knew and I hadn't told anyone, not even my wife. Of all the people, Jeff knew how dangerous the admission was. "If he was listed, then why weren't we informed?" I asked. The lawyer actually smiled at that one. "If he was listed and banned from owning a gun because of his sexual orientation then the MP's obviously knew about it some time ago yet they never told us, now did they? I would say it's their fault, not ours." "Excellent point, excellent. Why didn't I think of that yesterday when they were questioning me?" Yes, why didn't you think of it, Fred? "That leaves the matter of his assisted suicide," said the lawyer. "Who told him how to make hydrogen sulfide gas?" "Hydrogen sulfide?" I asked. "Is that what he used?" "That's what I was told. You know about it?" I laughed. "It's on warning labels on our products," I explained. "Oh, no!" "We profit from it, actually and we even tell people how to make it." "You can't be serious. It's against the law." "Is it?" "Yes, it's against the law to tell anyone how to kill themselves." "It's against the law for people to give out that information but it's not against the law for corporations to print warning labels on their products, products like two of ours, that warn if two products are mixed, it will creat hydrogen sulfide gas." "Two products? Two of our products?" gasped the lawyer. "Which two?" "I can't tell you," I laughed. "That might be construed as assisting in your suicide. You do seem a bit depressed but I'm not an expert." "But why would he have killed himself?" asked Fred. I looked at him as if he had asked the dumbest question I had ever heard and wondered if he really wanted an answer and when it seemed that he did I replied, "Well I can only guess, but honestly why wouldn't he? I mean look out the window and what do you see? Pea soup smog in Chicago in the summer. An environment that's completely gone to hell. No public services, not even decent water or public transit. I have to wear a smog mask and carry an acid proof poncho to work. Life sucks in general and I wonder why more people don't. To top it all off, if he was gay, he would be banned and listed which limited his travel and housing and now with the new legislation, if he was caught doing anything quote immoral unquote he could be institutionalized for the rest of his life without a trial." "You're not one of them?" asked the lawyer. "No I'm not and I resent the accusation. I have a wife and two grown children and another who died because of our third world health care system." "Then why do you care?" I smiled. "Some one has to. I am reminded of a quote from about a hundred years ago. I'm honestly not sure who said it or even why and I'm going to paraphrase it and I hope to do it justice. "First, they came for the illegal immigrants and I didn't speak out because I was not an illegal immigrant. "Then they came for the poor and I didn't speak out because I didn't consider myself to be poor. "Then they came for the homosexuals and I didn't speak out because I am not a homosexual. "Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out. "Who are they coming for next?" I asked. "Ask them, ask the party, who are they coming for next? I don't care. I'm speaking out now. I've seen them pervert our constitution in the name of all that religious crap and it sickens me." The two men sat in total disbelief. I had always been like a good little robot, keeping my mouth shut until then, all those years of being silent and going along with the party. "I gave Jeff raises because he did a good job. What does his sexual orientation have to do with being an accountant? The party says that big government is bad so it eliminated most business regulations but instead of government in the board rooms, we now have government in the bedroom. Two giant corporations control all the news media, two, that's all and they both are in bed with the Tea Party because the party allowed them to get that big provided they played ball with the party." "I could have you arrested," said the lawyer. "What happened to the first amendment to the constitution? Oh, that's right. They passed a law that was ruled unconstitutional but because we allowed them to amend the constitution and gave congress the right to over rule the Supreme Court, they can do pretty much whatever they want so now your right of free speech doesn't apply if you speak out against the party." "You can't have him arrested," said Fred. "Why not?" "He didn't say anything, anything at all," then Fred, good old boy Fred looked the lawyer right in the eye and added, "and if you should cause trouble, be aware that I do have friends in the party. A word here or a word there and you might be in trouble. Who knows? You could even be fired tomorrow and be black listed. I wouldn't cause trouble if I were you." I wondered why Fred was doing this. The lawyer glared and then left. "The man who said that quote you paraphrased was, I believe a Lutheran priest and he was talking about the Holocaust." I merely nodded. "I had forgotten it and I should not have, I of all people around here. You see, I a Jew. Thank you for reminding me of that." And so I went back to my desk and did my job and the next day I went to a memorial that the company held for Jeff and an amazing number of my co workers showed up. I heard about a rally the following week and not only did I attend up but so did my wonderful wife and children along with half the office and I thought that at least he did not die in vain. Chicago NOTE: If you enjoy these stories, and want anything specific to play out, please email me. Erotica is my vacation from everyday life. I haven't found anything I'm uncomfortable writing, so don't be bashful. I can either post the story here on Lit or email it to you if your storyline isn't necessarily Lit-friendly. I also have no problem keeping stories private. Thanks for reading! * We checked into the hotel, a little nervous. It had been a quiet flight; both of our minds had been wandering. Thinking about what waited for us in Chicago. My husband had arranged for a man to meet us. "He's 26, black. And very experienced," Victor told me as he responded to his emails; setting up a time and place to meet. "He's even said the thought of seducing you makes his cock rock hard." Hearing this young boy fantasized about me brought a heat to my face. As we sat in the café waiting for him to arrive, I felt my pussy quiver in excitement; the moisture collecting and dripping down my slit. My clit throbbed against the tight fabric of the black thong that clung closely to my body. "Vin?" Victor stood, extending his hand to this beautiful young man. His caramel skin, bright hazel eyes burned with a sensuality I hadn't seen. "Hi, Victor?" He smiled, eyes flickering across the table, caressing my sensitive body with his gaze. An unintentional gasp escaped my lips as my fantasies had all become real. "This is my wife, Finny." Vic smiled sitting beside me. "Hi," he looked down at the table, suddenly shy. "I'm Vince." His gaze migrated to my blushing face. All hints of his shyness had gone and left behind a dangerous, sexy beast that threatened to jump across the table and rip the clothes from my body. Victor, sensing my nerves stood and headed for the bar. "While he's gone..." Vince leaned in. "Yes?" I felt naughty flirting behind Vic's back. I wondered where it would go. Leaning in, I felt my breasts peaking out over my black lace bra. I felt his gaze burning down my shirt. My nipples hardened, knowing he was more than interested in me. "Why don't you tell me just how wet you are?" He grinned. "Oh... umm..." I blushed, feeling a rush my pussy begging for his cock. "Cocktails?" Vic asked, rejoining the table. "Oh thanks honey," I smiled. "Let's take this to our room." He was a little surprised, but obeyed. "This is our room," Vic spun as he entered our hotel room. We had really only spent the time to shower and head down to the café. Our suitcases were still lying open on the bed. "I hope you don't mind, I really have to pee." Vince smiled, heading to the bathroom. "So?" Vic asked as soon as the door closed. "So, what?" I blushed, knowing exactly what he wanted. "So... you... and him?" His gaze fell to the floor. "I wouldn't say no," my hand unconsciously caressed my breast, feeling my hardened nipple just below the fabric. "Sorry about that," Vince opened the door, smiling. "Why don't you tell me where you'd like this to go?" He sat on the bed. "I don't know, I guess I just thought we'd see where it goes." My knees started to weaken. Sitting on the bed beside him, I felt his gaze penetrating. He grinned, knowing how excited I was. My pussy soaking wet, my body was already there. "Vic, come and sit with your wife," he stood, making room for my husband. "Oh, ok." Vic sat instantly. "Show me how you touch her." I felt Vic's hand softly touching my lower back, reaching up under my shirt. His soft touch was nice, my excited body responded very quickly. Pulling my shirt over my head, I felt his hands crossing to my breasts, cupping around the padding. Vince stood watching, our eyes meeting as I lay back. Vic reached around, unclasping my bra. His hands caressing warmly as he pulled my breasts out into the open. I moaned loudly as I felt Vic's hot mouth on my nipple, sucking and nibbling. Opening my eyes, I caught Vince watching patiently from the corner. Feeling Vic grind between my legs, hitting my hard clit perfectly, God I just needed something big inside my tight little pussy. "Ok, Vic." Vince beckoned. "It's her turn. Finny, I want you to come here and show me what you want." He sat in the recliner positioned in the corner of the room. "Vic, stay there and watch." Standing up, I felt both men's eyes watching me feverously. My breasts hung freely, hard nipples pointing straight in the cold room. His eyes watched as I inched nearer. I could see his throbbing bulge painfully pressing against the front of his slacks. Dropping down to my knees, I caressed up his legs; inching closer to his throbbing mound. Grinning as I watched him grasp the arms of the chair as I nestled against his thick cock. Sucking against the fabric prison, I felt his head and his balls. My eyes, met his as he watching longingly at my breasts. Standing up, I slowly unbuttoned my pants. Watching Vic was I pulled my pants down in Vince's face, sitting in his lap to pull my ankles free. Feeling his thick cock against my ass was pure magic. The soft fabric of his khaki slacks did little to hide his pulsing member. My thong, dripping wet, was the last piece of fabric between this strange man and me. Grinding my ass down, I felt his shaft grow thicker. Thinking of him slowly penetrating me, my pussy quivered. "You want to show me your sweet pussy?" Vince whispered in my ear. "Mmm, god yes!" I moaned, bending over. Slowly, I peeled the fabric back from my drenched cunt. I could feel his breath on my sensitive, swollen skin; my clit glistening with moisture. "What else do you want?" He blew on my throbbing clit. "I want to feel your tongue," I whimpered, feeling my asshole pucker as I spoke. "I bet you do," he whispered, breath tickling my nether region. "Vic, come lay before her." I demanded. My husband jumped up from the bed faster than I'd ever seen. Lying down below me, I noticed his throbbing cock. "I wanna taste his precum," I begged, reaching for my husband's zipper. "Good, take his cock out and lick it like a lollipop." Vince allowed. As soon as my wet tongue touched Vic's head, I felt Vince's tongue on my gaping pussy. "Oh fuck!" I moaned, grinding down against his tongue. Sucking Vic's cock into my mouth, I grinned as he tensed against my heat. "You like it when I suck your cock, don't you?" I asked, my eyes meeting his. "Yes baby... so good," he moaned, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth. Sucking my clit into his mouth, Vince slid his tongue into my pussy. Grinding back, I pushed his tongue deeper inside. "So fucking good!" I moaned. "I wanna cum so bad." "Yeah, you want to cum on my tongue?" Vince teased, lapping at my clit faster and faster. "I'm so close..." I whimpered, begging him to continue. "Oh! Oh! Oh shit!" I shuddered, his fingers sliding deep into my throbbing pussy. Suddenly, I felt his hot tongue slowly licking my puckering asshole. His fingers massaging my g-spot like a champion. "Are you ready to cum for me?" He stopped, teasing. "Fuck! So Goddamn close! Fuck me!" I begged, trying to find his mouth with my ass. It felt so sweet as his fingers slid back inside me, his tongue slapping my asshole gingerly. My body shook suddenly, orgasm shot up my spine as I collapsed on top of this young man squirting powerfully. After regaining my breath, my eyes opened. My husband below me with his rock hard cock, my naked body collapsed on top of this well dressed man. "Are you ready to be fucked?" Vince asked as I crawled off him. "God yes!" I moaned, reaching for his zipper. "Vic, sit back on the bed." He ordered, standing up behind me. I heard his pants hit the floor, the clang of his belt buckle and cell phone. Turning around, my mouth fell open as his cock straightened out as he pushed his boxers down to the floor. "Oh my," I gasped, reaching for his beautiful penis. Pushing me into position, Vince moved me into doggy hovering over my husband's naked body. "Now take care of your husband," he whispered in my ear. Leaning down, I sucked Vic's cock into my mouth dropping balls deep into my throat. "Oh...oh...mmm," I cried as I felt his thick cock pressing into my tight pussy, the ripples of his condom catching in all the right places. His hands squeezed my shoulders as he thrusted deeper, slowly pulling out. I moaned louder each time he buried his perfect cock in my tight pussy, feeling his balls slap my clit. His hand trailed down to my ass, nails raking down my soft skin. As he squeezed my ass, I felt his finger teasing my asshole, spreading the wetness from my pussy across my puckering hole. His thrusting pushed me closer and closer to cumming, the sweet taste of my husband's precum collecting on my tongue. I felt Vic's veins throbbing on the underside of his cock; I knew he was seconds from blowing his load. Feeling his hips bucking against my face, his moans spurred me closer. I was ready to cum. "Mmm, you're squeezing so nicely." Vince smiled, kissing my back. "You can cum," he gave me his permission. Oddly, that's all I needed. Seconds later, my body shuddered and shook as I moaned and cried cumming on his cock. I felt him pull out. His cock slid up resting at the border of my ass. I was scared, but excited. Would he push in? Shortly, I got my answer. Feeling his thick head press into my ass, I whimpered. Feeling his balls slap against my sensitive pussy, fuck, I couldn't believe how good it felt. His cock, balls deep in my ass. His cock was throbbing too, my ass clenched against his monster cock and I felt the most intense pleasure I had ever felt. His veins, the ribs of the condom, pushing past my sphincter, I cried loudly as I experienced my first anal orgasm. Pulling out, he pulled the condom from his cock and shot his load up my back. Feeling the hot cum trickle down my back, I shivered happily collapsing on top of my husband. "Thanks guys," Vince smiled as he pulled his clothes on. "I hope you had fun." "Oh absolutely!" I moaned, still feeling my orgasm resonating through my body. "Thanks," Vic smiled, his cock already growing hard; ready for dessert. Chicago Blue Panties His heart skipped, and he could feel it beating more rapidly. There, on their private website, was a beautiful picture of his girlfriend's mons, tastefully enveloped in a pair of baby blue panties. He remembered telling her he loved baby blue, and he wished he had had more time to share his fantasies with her. He could see a dark mound inside. Dark hair? No. She was always clean shaven, it must just be a lovely shadow that outlined the area he wished he could reach out and touch. Just a little touch. A little stroke. With his middle finger, so gently. He could stand behind her, and fondle her so gently as she breathed and kissed his neck. He knew she would love it if he would take his finger and lightly, so delicately, use it to part the lips of her vagina and tease her, and then slowly tease her further. He liked to look. The panties were not too tight, but not too loose, either. They fit the perfect little pelvic region between her legs like a smooth, comforting glove. His penis felt hot, began to get hard. He could just imagine how amazing it would be to gently put his hand on that sweet, warm pocket. No hair, just a beautiful little mound, warm, sensual, wet within moments. He sighed. He missed her intensely, but they were destined to never meet again. They were not terribly distant; she in Chicago, and he in Cheyenne, but they knew they had to keep their distance. It didn't mean that he couldn't look, however. That was what they shared: He liked to look, she liked to be looked at by him. A fantasy only. In fact, all the longing in the world was not going to put this back together. He was married, she was married, they were both devoted to their families. Yet, they pined. Could it be that the pining was part of the fantasy? He didn't know, all he knew was that he felt drunk with wanting every time he had the most minimal contact with her. "Must not cross barriers," he muttered to himself, at the same time feeling his throat burning with longing. How long had it been this time, since their last contact? Over two months, he realized. Another sigh. Eh, it was a sad situation, but life wasn't that bad. His wife was a beautiful person, his ex-girlfriend was comfortable in her life, apart they were doing okay in their lives, handling this secret they shared, that they were still drawn to each other. They managed it in awkward lurches forward and back, mostly back. She had tried to break it off several times at first, and finally begged him to do the heavy lifting because she could not allow herself to contemplate a life without him in some small way. Now he returned to thinking about her pussy, how he would place that whole hand in between her legs, move it gently in a small circle, watch her writhe. He had the strength to make her arousal incredibly erotic, a slow dream. He had felt such enormous guilt about his marriage that he resolved to part with her permanently, and had managed it for the last two months; first, by de-friending her on Facebook, and then by writing her a note that despite his feelings for her, he would never contact her again. You can't get more final than that. She threw the girlfriend-requisite Hail Mary of opening the door to friendship. Yes, in a perfect world, friendship. But there are some people we cannot be friends with. Oh, certainly, this woman was a good person, but he knew he could not control himself around her. She would behave like a lady, she would do anything he wanted her to do, but that was part of the problem, she might do anything he wanted, and in a moment of weakness, all the trust he had built in his marriage would be devastated; once he was around her, he would not want a lady, he would want a lover who would gently seduce him but then maul him, take him apart, lick him everywhere, put her mouth on every part of him, and he imagined himself throbbing inside her within moments of encountering her again. He was uncertain whether she had the strength to behave like a lady and say "No" to him, and he knew he could not even manage the guilt of being in her presence, knowing how attracted he was to her. So, he would only look. It had been twenty years since they had last been in physical contact. They were children when they had been together, and as a young boy he had broken up with her. Why stay with one girl in a school full of beautiful girls? He had grown bored with her and wanted to see what life was like out there. So, he broke up with her and found his head turned by several pretty young things. Why then, did his thoughts always return to her? As time went by, memories of why exactly he needed to leave someone out of boredom grew dim and distant, and he began to reflect on her good qualities. She certainly loved him back then. It seemed that after all these years, also, they shared an unusual hobby: sending each other erotic pictures. "Has this ever happened to other people?," he thought. The mind growing cloudy, and a person being unable to focus on their life and family? Perhaps. Perhaps they were addicted to each other - she certainly believed there was some brain chemistry involved. Although he cut her off from his Facebook site, he told her he would occasionally check the site they had set up for just the two of them. He loved his wife, wanted to be a good husband, and the ex-girlfriend respected him, so although she said she would send him notes on the site, she left him alone for over two months. She sent some letters of pain for the first three or four days, but then stopped corresponding, not even tapering off, wanting to honor his wishes. He could see from her site that she was still talking with friends, participating in life, and he wondered if she thought of him. And now, this beautiful affirmation, this perfect mons, a glorious place to place his hand, put two fingers, maybe three, so delicious. It was about sex, but it felt loving. She cared enough to put a sweet little cupcake in the window for him to lick his lips over. His wife was coming into the room. He shut the computer off, and smiled at her. Nothing was going to rock his existence, it was just a private little treat for him. He decided he would wait until he was alone, then open up the site and revisit the sweet little mound. His little sugary confection lived thousands of miles away, and was very involved in her own life. She was a therapist, with a husband who owned an investment firm. Their worlds had nothing to do with one another, and she was far too much of a lady to stalk him. But she didn't mind pursuing him in this harmless little hobby they shared. After all, as she had said, they were, to put it in technical terms, "screwed". They would never be able to physically be together. And that might have ratcheted up the fantasy. After all, on the Internet, all things are possible. Everyone is perfect. Affairs are always perfect until someone wants more. Even Internet affairs could lead to disaster. In this case, the disaster was only in their hearts, but it was painful enough for him to want to shut it down permanently, and she understood. She seemed - stronger than him, somehow, even though he was in the military, and had a quick mind. But after receiving letters from her during their break-up, he knew it still bothered her greatly when they first reunited and were in heavy contact. It was very difficult for them to have any kind of communication, because they would both get so excited, so hot. He understood, therefore, why he had received this beautiful mons, with no words attached. What can one say? "You want to have fun, you want to be with me, it is painful for both of us, but I look great, in this moment, and I want you to see me. Someday, you, me, your wife, my husband, God willing, we'll all be in our eighties," she said to him once. "I am happy I look like this now, but I won't some day. You like to look, I like to be looked at." He imagined her slipping her beautifully smooth fingers underneath the gauzy light blue waist of her panties, slipping down, down, caressing herself, slowly pressing into herself, the spot right where she liked it. "Oh yes, baby, please do that for me," he mouthed silently to himself. "Press yourself ever so gently. I want you to think of my large hand carefully covering your vagina, your smoothly shaven, perfect little pussy. I do love this. I do want this. Now take your other hand, and tease your nipple, rub it gently for me." He thought about saying this to her, how he would play with her vagina with his fingers, and then firmly force them into her until she gasped, then turn her toward him and his stiff penis. How her eyes would widen with anticipation. How he would take her to any available piece of furniture, push her gently onto it, and fill her with his hard cock, rocking back and forth in unison with her as he sucked on her breasts. Oh, let me suck those. It was his fantasy, so as he held himself firmly in his hand, he imagined that he already had all his clothes off, and was ready for her and her wet pussy. He would not reply to her story. He wanted to keep a boundary, keep strong. He wanted to be a decent person. But he was a man. He did want to look. He licked his lips. If he were there, how he would love to tease her, pull his cock out of her and listen to her moan as he kneeled in front of her, his eyes on that gorgeous pussy, thinking about licking her while sticking his middle finger into that lovely little cunt. He would listen to her make a high, soft cry as he slowly used his finger to enter her, gently, in charge, as she shuddered. He would push, slowly, firmly, into the pussy, feel the walls of her vagina as he arched his finger and moved it in a careful circle inside her. The expression on her face would be of someone lost in the moment, almost out of her body. She would grow wetter and hotter by the moment, oh, how she would love it. He knew she loved to lie on her couch and put her own finger in herself, and hold it there, thinking about him, looking at pictures he had sent. She begged him for pictures of his face. She loved to look at his chest, but his face made her cum like a young colt, bucking and swaying and moaning. Might he put his tongue inside her vagina if he were there? Oh yes. He would flatten it against the perfect line that divided her body from vagina to clitoris, slowly and gently thrill her like a happy little paint roller. He would dip it into her as she begged for more. He imagined her smiling contentedly, legs spreading oh, so gently, inviting him to satisfy himself in her. He loved that she wanted him, after all these years, across all the miles, that she was happy to send him her love and good wishes and tender message of thinking of him in a pair of beautiful baby-blue underwear. "You said no to him because you are grounded in your self-worth." Her client was crying as she said this, uncrossing and crossing her fit, tanned legs, her short skirt fluttering as she leaned forward. A slight breeze teased her pussy and excited her as she thought of her ex-boyfriend, even as she sat with her client. "You are feminine energy, and the feminine does not reach out." She felt a pang of regret and understanding as she said this. They made another appointment and the client left. She thought about the boyfriend she loved, whom she would never see again. It was July, the month that had loomed during their entire relationship, the month they both knew would represent a long ebb. Unfortunately, now it was more than an ebb, because he had let logic and responsibility take over, like a man should, and realized he needed to focus on his marriage, so he had permanently shut down their communication. July 1 was the day she was to sign up for a convention in February, and travel to his city for a day or two. She had considered it for weeks, and realized that if she felt so much pain with absolutely no contact, imagine the excruciating nightmare of being within a few miles and the idea of a chance meeting, or worse, a planned one. She feared making a foolish mistake and hurting him or herself. It was an addicted brain wanting this, but it was a heart full of love for both him and for herself, that was not wanting this even more. The true love rather than the fuzzy brain won out, and she decided not to go. She had reached out in contacting him originally, which was unladylike, felt wrong. She began to think about their time together, and almost involuntarily sighed and began to massage her mons over her panties. She consider that it was hard, even painful, to be the one that doesn't reach out. But all the wrongness and the sadness somehow had turned out positively, she thought as she rubbed herself; she was now able to speak to her clients from a place of knowing, how miserable it can feel to put oneself out there. Amazing, she had the only job in the world that could turn a disastrous affair into an opportunity to bond with clients. There are women out there, there must be, who can have affairs and disrespect their men and go about their business, but she learned she was not among them. Now, she knew. Like she always told clients, not being that narcissistic, that's a good thing. Self-respect, dignity, it felt better than being duplicitous, disconnected. She thought about the client she had just had, who left in tears and pain over the love she couldn't have, and knew what each week would feel like, because she had just lived it; she would be able to track her in a way that would make her feel she had someone to walk with through the pain. The first week, forget it. The second, third, fourth, still hard. But by 8 1/2, 9 weeks, a person could feel completely different, centered. She was at that place. Almost. It seems like the primary thing her clients concerned themselves with was the state of mind of their ex-lover. She had been there, too, and she could now reflexively re-direct the conversations back to the only topic that mattered - the client and her inner world. She began to massage her vagina more aggressively, although still slowly. She rolled down her panties and with a finger on her other hand, entered herself and began to move back and forth. She knew that her own reaching out with a story, after months of silence, was a contradiction of the work she did, and that she would have to know exactly why she was doing it, she couldn't just go on feelings. On the other hand, she knew it was not a contradiction, it was experiencing and participating rather than just quoting book knowledge about how one might feel. She decided consciously to reach out, with her story, and then let it sit, see how it felt. Would it feel good to write a story and post it just for him? For a feeling-centered person, only time - letting feelings unfold over a period of months - would tell. She smiled inside, thinking about how disappointing it would be for him to read an erotic story and suddenly have to slog through some girly diatribe. So what, she would be getting back to the good part in a second, as soon as she worked out this part in her mind. She giggled and laughed as she wrote this, thinking about him trying to skim over the boring parts. Now her finger was inside her cunt and wiggling around quickly. Ah, well. She sighed, because she knew separating was important, necessary. She reflected on her own marriage - how she loved her husband, but fantasized about being with her old boyfriend. How many times had she snuck out of bed to wait for him to appear on Facebook, for long conversations that were sometimes innocent, but other times lovely and dirty and erotic. She missed him, she felt guilty about how they had carried on, but she did not feel regret. She thought of his amazing, muscular shoulders, how he wanted to show her how he did pushups. "That is a body that has done a lot of pushups," she thought to herself. Yum. She grew aroused as she thought of him holding his beautiful, smooth, warm cock in his hand, gently rubbing the tip, squeezing it and caressing it, holding it firmly. "Oh baby, I'd like to hold that for you, back and forth, back and forth for you," she whispered. Putting his head back and closing his eyes, concentrating on a picture of her in his mind, letting himself go, cuming. Love it. She licked her lips at the thought. She knew he would never contact her again, but she also knew he would think of her, fantasize about her, daydream about her body. She thought about lying on the floor while he did pushups, each time dipping his tongue into her waiting vagina. How she would be overcome and would gently take his face to her pussy to feed on it. God, that would be fun. There is a lot of freedom in not having to be that ideal of perfection someone perceives you to be over the Internet. She smiled to herself - yes, that fantasy was hard to maintain, but she looked awfully good today, thin; she had lost four pounds this week from adhering to her diet, her hair gently framed her face, she felt wet between her legs thinking about her absent boyfriend. Life was good. Life with him was amazing, but chaotic, out of balance with a family that had been ignored. Now, everything was back in place, but she still allowed herself to think about his hairy, adorable tummy and chest, the picture he sent to her of jiz all over it - she loved it. She put a finger in her vagina and found it to be completely wet, dripping. She felt complimented by that funny jiz picture. They experienced a madness together, a passion that had to stop, but she was still free to reflect on their nasty, erotic discussions. She took better care of herself now, making time to be alone to have a dream-like rendezvous with him on her couch more often, his voice in her memory coaching her to rub herself and play with herself in the way he wanted her to remember. "Now I'll put my finger in your wetness, enter you gently, take it out and lick it, then I'll put two fingers in your wet pussy." She loved to think about him, she loved to look at his shoulders, hot and wet, the light from a lamp glancing off them and reflecting his hard muscles. The look in his dark eyes asserted a sexuality that made her heart stop, even though she must have looked at the one picture a hundred times. Certainly, she was cheating on her husband when they spoke of having sex together before, but now? Alone, with his pictures and his amazing words, this was just good, clean, fun. She imagined him sitting on top of her, his hardness buried in her vagina, massaging her clitoris with his penis as he thrust into her over and over. And over. Oh, over and over. Lovely. Mesmerizing. Oh. Not much more time, now. Ah, love this. Want this. Even from miles away, from months ago, the thought of him could still bring her to orgasm. She wondered if he would have really found her to be much of a lover. She did love to follow his instructions, putting two fingers inside of herself, then three. Ah. He seemed to have a million great ideas. The fantasy - perfect. But the reality? So much guilt involved, too many people involved. This was better; yes, better. When he wrote to her and told her he would not contact her again because he didn't want anything to change in his marriage, she was upset, but understood. Life had turned upside down, they had intersected at one of the worst times in her life. Now, with her memories of his words, and his very sexual pictures, life was extremely erotic but not conflictual. She took a photograph of herself in a new pair of baby-blue panties one day, sweet ones with useless buttons strolling from below her belly to her clitoris. She was proud of her body and wanted to compare her waist to previous pictures she had sent. The result looked so lovely that she was dying to send it to him, but wanted to respect his wishes to not have contact. What to do, what to do. She decided to wait several weeks and then send it, and then wait several months, maybe years, to see how it made her feel, and then use it in her work with clients. Any contact with this man needed to be carefully monitored, but her irrational side allowed her a window that opened up just a crack, enough to let an erotic story and picture slip through. Naughty, naughty. She should probably be punished somehow, perhaps he should shove himself inside her and fuck her for hours until he was satisfied over and over. That would teach her a lesson she'd never forget. Chicago Blue Panties Was it wrong? Would it feel wrong later? Only time would tell. She appraised her picture again. "Look at that perfect, round mons. So ready for him." She put her hand between her legs and thought of him. Quickly, quickly now. She thought of him and pleasured herself, kept touching and pressing into herself until she came. She put the cupcake in the window for him, closed her computer, and went back to her life.