0 comments/ 15735 views/ 3 favorites Pen Pals By: Moonlight_33 Rose had just returned from another disastrous blind date, set up for her by a dating company called "Sure Thing Dating Service." From the five dates she had been sent on by that particular company, she could only assume that the guys that registered there took "Sure Thing" to mean "Guaranteed Sex." Even if the guy wasn't butt ugly, which was generally the case, he still expected sex right after dinner, if not before! What annoyed Rose even more was that three out of the five dates had made her pay for the dinner! She considered writing a letter to the "Sure Thing Dating Service," and suggesting they change the name to "Date A Loser" or "Assholes for Hire", either one would have been far more appropriate. Sighing with disappointment, she tossed her handbag onto the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. It was nine-thirty on a Saturday night, and once again she was home alone. She could have gone home with loser number five, but the thought of having sex with a man that looked and smelled as bad as he did turned her stomach more than turned her on. She was lonely, admittedly, and perhaps a little desperate, but not insane enough to find wallowing with a diseased pig even remotely appealing. Picking up the television remote, she flashed through the channels, and was not surprised to find nothing worth watching. She had never been one to watch much television anyway, but she suspected that anyone as bored as she was just then would probably find watching grass grow interesting. The pile of videos on top of the coffee table beside her handbag caught her attention. They weren't due back at the store for another couple of days, but she had watched most of them twice already. At least, if she took them back now, she would have something to do. While she was at it, she could check out the candy-counter, and maybe indulge in some ice cream. A girl had to do what a girl had to do. Whatever it took to make it through the night. Slipping the videos into a bag, she headed down the lift and out onto the street. It was a lovely night; the moon was almost full, and the stars were shining brighter than she had seen them in a long time. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a shooting star as it streaked across the heavens. She smiled softly to herself, remembering a thing she had always done with her sister when she was young. Closing her eyes, she put her hand to her heart, and made a wish. "I wish... that I could meet a man... a gentle man with a kind nature, open mind, and gentle hands. It would be an added bonus if he were a writer, like me, and, if it's not pushing a wish too far, if he were hot, sexy, and fantastic in bed, I would be most appreciative." She opened her eyes again, and giggled a little at the rather childish thing she had just done, but then, her mother did often tell her that she would never grow up. She remembered telling her mother, on many occasions, that grownups didn't know how to have fun, so she didn't want to grow up. If only she had known the way her life would turn out, perhaps she would have tried harder to remain a child. At twenty-seven, she had never met a man, or a woman for that matter, that she could maintain a serious relationship with. She was beginning to wonder if she were just meant to become a withered up old spinster, alone and cranky, with an ever-ready supply of batteries for an over-used vibrator. The thought made her shudder. She was quite partial to her vibrator, but she would never accept it as a permanent replacement for a man. As she walked the two blocks to the video store, she tried not to think about the things that had taken place in her life, deciding instead to watch the people and the world as it passed her by. It was a quiet neighborhood, not a great deal of anything interesting ever happened there, but people in general were always interesting. When she arrived at the store, she set the bag of videos on the returns counter, and noticed the man behind the counter was not someone she had seen in the store before. Still, she always came for movies on Mondays; perhaps this guy worked weekends. He looked over and gave her a soft smile. It was enough to make Rose want to melt. He was no Adonis, but he was not a swine-herder either, and as he came over to take the bag of videos, she caught the spicy scent of his cologne. He looked to be in his early thirties, well dressed and clean-shaven. Deep brown eyes matched the color of his hair perfectly, and the small scar that appeared in his right cheek when he smiled only seemed to add to his appeal. Pulling herself away from the counter, her face a little flushed from the thoughts that had been racing through her mind, she went to select more movies to get her through another week of boredom after dark. She selected six that looked worth watching, and on her way back to the counter, she passed the children's movies section of the store. She loved to watch cartoons, sometimes setting her VCR to tape the morning shows if she had to leave early for work, or if she was just too busy to sit and watch them at the time. Picking up two kid's movies, she afforded herself a little smile once again. Perhaps she was not as grown up as she had thought after all. The man at the counter had finished with the other customer, and was reading the paper with a strange smile on his face. As he scanned the videos and entered them onto her account, Rose stole a quick look at what could be making him smile so sheepishly. The paper was open to the personals, and right at the top of the column was an ad that read: PEN PAL Nice, clean, well-kept gentleman, seeking a hot, sordid, written relationship with a lady who has time on her hands, and a gift for writing. To heat up your mailbox, write to: DP P.O. Box 3364 Central Post Office Rose made a quick note of the address, and then turned her attention to the candy and ice cream. When the man behind the counter handed her the videos, and placed the candy and ice cream in a bag, he gave her another delicious smile. Rose could not remember when she had ever blushed so much, but there was something about this man that gave her butterflies in her tummy every time he looked her way. The badge he wore said Derek, a name she had liked ever since she was young. She'd had a cat once called Derek, but this man looked nothing like a cat, more like a well-groomed steed. Yet another thought to make her blush. As he handed her the change, his eyes met hers for just a moment. "I see that you come here often, Rose, is there anything you would like to see that we don't have in the store yet?" His voice was smooth, and soft. The kind of voice any woman would love to have whispering her name in the middle of the night. Rose gave herself a mental jolt. There she was thinking with her crotch again when this nice man was trying to be considerate. "Not that I can think of, off-hand. The range here is pretty good, but if I think of anything, I'll let you know." In the back of her mind she was thinking of a something she would like to see that was in the store, but it didn't involve movies. More, it involved him naked at the end of her bed. She had to wonder at what point in her life did she start conceiving such wicked thoughts? It was supposed to be something men did all the time, but perhaps women were just as bad, just not as obvious. She thanked him, and bid him a good night before heading back out into the street. A few doors down from the video store was an all-night news stand. For a moment, she hesitated. She knew she had nothing to lose, and writing was not only her business, but also her passion. She picked up a copy of the paper Derek had been reading, and a pack of writing paper with roses around the border, and a small rose on the back of the envelope. There were only three more packs on the shelf, so she bought those as well, thinking it romantic to always write to the man in the personal column on the same stationary. Perhaps the sight of the roses in his mailbox would make him smile a little in anticipation before he even opened the envelope. Back in her apartment, she tossed the videos on the coffee table, opened the ice cream, and sat down to write. Dear DP, As I sit and read your ad in the personals over and over, I find my mind filling with wicked thoughts. My nipples grow harder by the second, and my clean-shaven pussy is becoming so wet, I can feel my panties becoming soaked through. I feel very soon that I will have to remove them, and pay myself some up-close, personal attention. Longing to hear from you, RM Hoping the letter was enough to catch his interest, but not enough to make her seem like a desperate slut, she addressed the envelope and sealed it. On the back, she added a small drop of her perfume, then placed the letter in her handbag to be posted in the morning. The thought of getting a letter in reply was exciting, but she had learned long ago not to get her hopes too high, or to set unrealistic expectations on others. She would just have to wait and see. For now though, she had a warm bed, a hot body, and fresh batteries in her favorite vibrator. It may not have been as good as a real man, but unlike some of the losers she had slept with in her life, her vibrator never left her unfinished, and was always there in the morning. Two days later, Rose was thrilled to open her mailbox and discover that DP had answered her letter. After a long day at work, this was just the thing she needed to brighten her evening. Slipping her mail into her handbag, she hastened to the elevator and the privacy of her apartment. Tossing her bag and the other unread mail on the couch, she looked at the envelope in her hand. It was pastel blue, with a small rose sticker holding the back closed. The handwriting on the front was neat, almost too neat to be a man, but it showed definite style. With trembling fingers, she opened the letter. Dear RM, What pleasure untold does your imagination hold for me? Do you long to feel the full length of my stiffening manhood in your hand? Does your tongue become moist at the thought of licking and sucking my stiff eight inches of manly meat, or is it your pussy that becomes moist at such a thought? As I sit and breath in the delicate scent of your perfume, my erection in my right hand and my pen in my left, I can't help but wonder what your womanly juices smell like, what they taste like, and I find myself hungering for a taste of you. Would you have me remain a starving man? Or would you quench my thirst for your sweet nectar? Hungrily Yours DP Rose found herself almost breathless reading the words. Never had she thought that mail could be so exciting. Holding the letter to her chest, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, she could smell the soft scent of a man's spicy cologne. It was the same one the man at the video store had been wearing, and the thought that DP could be as smooth and sexy as Derek made her blood run all the hotter. She could not wait any longer. Opening the drawer she had set aside for stationary, she took out the rose paper and pen. With a trembling hand, and a racing heart, she sat to write a reply. Dear DP, Never let it be said that I would not feed a starving man, or quench the thirst of one whose mouth was dry and parched. I, too, hunger. I hunger for the feel of strong arms to embrace me, the heat of a manly body to warm me, the feel of a strong tongue to lick clean the tears of a lonely pussy. She is such a pretty pussy, all clean and neat, but she is as yet unloved, and wet with sweet juices that are yet to be tasted by one worthy of the gift. I hunger for the feel of a cock as solid and hot as I imagine yours to be. I long to take such a delicious piece of meat into my mouth and milk it of all the seed it has to offer, only to entice it to hardness once again so that it may appease the demands of my hot, wet, throbbing, lonely pussy. Wet for you RM Feeling more wicked than she had ever felt before, she lifted her skirt, pulling aside her panties, and slid a finger into her depths. She was incredibly wet, and so ready that she could easily have brought herself to a climax right there at the table. But there was no time for that. If she was quick, she could make the evening post; he would have her letter in the morning delivery. Taking her finger from her hot slit, she wiped the juices over the paper, covering the letter in her own personal scent. She then used the same juices to moisten the envelope and stick it closed. It felt so wicked, and so hot, she could not wait to post it. Grabbing her purse, she headed for the newsstand to buy a stamp, and catch the afternoon post. At work the following day, it was all she could do to keep her mind on her job. She watched the clock almost constantly, waiting for the moment when she could leave for home, and check her mail. Upon opening her mailbox, she was not disappointed. Another blue envelope, stuck down with a rose sticker, sat nestled neatly amongst her other mail. With a feeling of heated anticipation, she collected the mail and headed for her apartment. Opening the letter carefully, so that she didn't damage it, she pulled the letter free and opened it. Dear RM, You are the most amazing woman... not only are you wonderful with words, you are deliciously wicked. I can only imagine how delicious a pussy such as yours would taste, and my mouth becomes desperately dry and parched at the thought of never tasting such a treat. At the smell of your tantalizing odor on your letter, my cock swelled and all but exploded in my pants. It was all I could do to tame the beast that is held captive in my tightening pants. How I long to explore you, to discover your hidden depths, and delight in every discovery. I long to hold your body close, to make you so hot that your body would burn for only me. I yearn to feel your soft skin, to tease and caress the dark peaks of your breasts until they scream for my mouth to suckle upon them. I desire to take you to places within the realms of pleasure that you have never experienced before, and delight in treasures that have yet to be discovered. I want to make passionate love to you, and I want to fuck you like a wild animal. There would be no boundaries when it comes to our passion. Imagine my throbbing cock buried deep within you, thrusting and driving into you. I am leaving you a small sample of what my cock contains when thoughts of you fill my mind. Throbbing with Lust, DP By the time Rose had finished reading the letter for the second time, she was more aroused then she had been in a very long time. Splatter stains covered the letter, smudging the writing in places, but it was more than obvious what had caused the stains. It was cum. He has jerked off and cum all over the letter for her. In her mind she could visualize the image of him sitting in a chair, the letter in one hand, and his cock in the other, pulling and stroking himself with thoughts of her filling his mind. Fucking his cock with his hand until he came all over the page. She could feel the heavy moisture in her panties, and her clit was throbbing against the fabric. She wasted no time in retrieving the rose stationary. She had always liked the pretty pink paper and envelopes, but now, she found just handling it turned her on. With a pen in her hand, she began her reply. Dear DP, As I sit, reading your latest letter, looking upon the spots of cum that adorn the bottom of the page, I find I am driven crazy with lust for you. I can take no more; a woman has to do what a woman has to do. I am taking off my slacks, letting them slide slowly down my slender legs and kicking them across the room. Now I am removing my blouse, throwing it into a heap on the floor with my slacks. My nipples are rock-hard and dark, pressed against the fabric of my red lace bra. I can't stand the ache, so I am removing my bra, letting my breasts fall free. Oh, that does feel much better. I don't think my nipples have ever demanded attention so much. I am pinching them, squeezing them and rolling them around in the palm of my hand. Oh, that does feel so very nice. But now my clit is crying out for some attention as well, so I am sliding my red lace panties off, letting them fall to the floor with my bra. Much better. Now I can sit here, with my legs spread wide, my fingers opening the folds of soft flesh that hide my dripping hole. I am pushing two fingers deep into myself, imagining they are your cock, or your tongue. But wait, I am sure you are much more endowed than that, so I am adding a third finger. Oh My God that feels good. Feeling you sliding in and out of me, making me cum with just a touch. Fingering my pussy for you RM Now she really was hot. Pushing and probing her hot hole with her long fingers, fucking herself with the image of a man she had never seen in her mind. It felt so delicious, so wicked. Her free hand dropped the pen and reached for her clit, rubbing it in fast circles. Now was not the time for prolonged pleasure, it was time for a fast, explosive orgasm. Faster and harder she fingered her pussy while her clit pulsed and throbbed beneath her fingers. She could feel it building, feel her body crying out for release. In her mind she screamed out the only name she knew for her lover. DP. All at once, she was there. A powerful and explosive orgasm swept through her entire body, making her shudder and close her legs tight about her fingers. Panting and shaking, she continued to gently stroke her clit until the last of her release was past. Taking her cum-covered fingers, she wet the seal on the envelope and folded it over. If she was quick, she could still make the afternoon post. Before she knew it, it was Saturday once again; time to return the videos she had rented the week before and select new ones for the coming week. Stuffing them into a bag, she picked up her handbag and headed out the door. She was glad that her video day was now Saturday. Derek was standing behind the counter reading the newspaper, just like he had been the previous week. He smiled at her as she entered the store, and Rose felt her tummy flutter and her face blush. She handed him the bag of videos she was returning, and, as he turned to set them in the returns box, she noticed something that almost took her breath away. There, in the back pocket of his jeans, were the letters she had written to DP! The realization hit her, 'DP' stood for Derek Porter, the name on his badge! No wonder the cologne on the first letter reminded her of his! Reaching into her handbag, she ran her fingers over the blue envelopes, wondering if she should make herself known, or if she should leave things as they were. With a heavy sigh, she decided that she really had nothing to lose. When he turned back to her, flashing her a stunning smile, she pulled the letters from her bag and placed them on the counter. His mouth dropped open in sudden shock, and she almost panicked that she truly had done the wrong thing in revealing herself. To her surprise, he lifted her hand off the letters, and kissed the back of her fingers. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, RM. I was going to request that we meet in my next letter, but it seems fate has already made that choice for us. If I may, would you do me the honor of knowing what RM stands for?" Rose was melting beneath his touch and soft words. She found it hard to speak, but from some place deep within herself, she found her voice. "Rose Marie. My name is Rose Marie Millard. It is a pleasure to meet you DP, or should I say, Derek Porter?" Her face was blushing again, and she thought she must have looked like a shy schoolgirl. "Rose Marie... what an incredible name, and so fitting for a delicate bloom such as yourself. Rose, would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight, say about eight? Please don't say no, my poor heart would be devastated if I were to miss an opportunity to get to better know the lady of my dreams." His eyes sparkled, and she could see the honesty in his face. Pen Pals I wrote erotic stories for a time as a hobby and diversion. During that time the comments, which had been received from people who had read the stories, were largely positive. There were some negative and rather abusive comments. They were primarily in response to homosexual activities, which took place in group sex or incestuous settings. I have some opinions about what motivated such responses, but the statements made were of no importance either then or now. A number of the responses were from men who were bi-curious or admittedly bi. They had either experienced or wanted to experience man-to-man sex in either group sex or swinging settings. A few were from men who were interested in or fantasized about being with another man. I responded to my e-mail whenever the sender included an e-mail address. (Interestingly enough, the abusive responses were always anonymous.) Sometimes a correspondence developed. Most involved two or three messages back and forth and then the correspondence ended. One series of e-mail correspondence developed into an electronic relationship. For the purposes of this story, I’ll call the writer “Gil”, because I have never knowingly received or sent e-mail to anyone with a screen name of “Gil”. Initially, Gil described how he seemed to slip into the stories as he read them. Although the stories were fantasies, they intrigued Gil. He wrote that he fantasized about being with another man, but he really had no good idea how to begin to fulfill his fantasy. We continued our contact. Gil told how he fantasized sucking as he was being sucked. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but we continued to write to each about ourselves. I told him I was single and bisexual and equally enjoyed sex with men and women. He wrote me that he was bi-curious, but pursuing his curiosity could ruin his marriage. We found out that we had a number of things in common. We both read a lot rather that watch TV. Neither one of us were sports fanatics. We both took care of ourselves and worked out regularly and, most important of all, we both traveled a lot in our work. I decided to press the issue. I asked Gil what his travel schedule was for the next three months. I told him that I could change my schedule to match his and, if he was really interested in being with another man, we could arrange to meet somewhere. He said he would like that. I looked at his schedule and found that I could meet with him. I told him that, if he wanted to meet, he should book his normal travel plans and I would make arrangements for place to meet. This way, his travel would appear “normal”. I took a few days off from my job (It helps if you own the company) and booked a suite in a resort hotel near where Gil would be working. The resort hotel was gay friendly and I figured two men meeting in a gay friendly location would be less conspicuous that two men moving between rooms in a “straight” hotel. Gil made his usual hotel arrangements. I booked the resort hotel. He left his hotel room and rented car and took a taxi to a light rail station. I had parked in the station parking lot and was waiting for Gil on the platform. We had exchanged photographs some time earlier so we could identify each other when we finally met. As we walked to the car, I explained the hotel set up. Gil agreed that two men checking into a gay friendly hotel was probably less conspicuous that meeting at a “straight” hotel. When we got to the hotel, I checked us in. Not an eyebrow was raised over the fact that we were the same sex and had very little luggage. I could have registered, as “Mr. and Mr. Smith” and no one would have cared. Once we got to our suite, we decided to lay it on the line. Gil wanted to try sex with another man. I wanted to help him. We decided to get some dinner then return to hotel room. We would shower, possibly together, and then let nature or lust take its course. We talked quietly while we ate dinner. Gil had had a long interest in photography and had once planned to work as a commercial photographer. He also studied figure photography and had developed an interest in photographing nudes. He found the male nude intrigued him. “I began to seek out work by photographers who featured males. This led, of course, to both heterosexual erotica and to homoerotic work. I found myself pursuing more and more of the homoerotic and, as I studied the photos, I found that I wanted to experience another man’s body and experience sex with a man. It has taken years but here I am.” Gil looked at me. I weighed my thoughts before I spoke. “I’ve always enjoyed sex. I had my first non-solo sexual experience with a friend in high school. I dated a number of girls and we did a lot of heavy petting and making out, but my first true sexual experience with another person was with my best friend.” “We used to get skin magazines and jerk off together as we looked at and fantasized about the models in the centerfolds. One time, I remember, he got a hold of a porn mag. We really jerked ourselves raw while looking at the pictures, especially the blowjobs.” Gil was raptly following my words. “One thing led to another. We talked about what it would be like screw the models in the pictures. And, of course, blowjobs were a big topic of discussion.” One afternoon, while we were leafing through a thumb worn porn mag, my buddy says ‘ I know how we can get a blowjob.” “Who do you know that I don’t?” I thought about the few girls we knew who had reputations for being ‘fast’. “We don’t know any girls who will let you touch their pussies, let alone suck your dick. If you take them to a movie and a hamburger and malt afterward, you’re lucky if you can get your hand inside their bra.” He looked at me, “We don’t need girls.” “What?” “We don’t need girls. We can blow each other.” “You’re kidding!” “No, you suck my dick and I’ll suck yours.” He was already taking his clothes off. “Come on, get naked.” Before I knew what was happening, my buddy was standing in front of me. He was naked. And he had a big hard-on. It was too late to chicken out. I hurriedly pulled off my clothes. Soon I was naked and with a big hard-on too. We looked at each other and gulped. My buddy gripped my hard dick. He dropped to his knees and put my dick in his mouth. When he closed his lips around my cock shaft, my knees almost gave away.” “What happened next?” “Well, it took just a few minutes before I blew my load. I shot cum all over his room. He stood up and I got on my knees. He had been jerking himself off while he blew me. His cockhead was wet with pre-cum.” “Go on.” “The second I slipped my mouth over his cock it felt so good that I knew I was a cocksucker. He began to cum even more quickly that I did. I barely got his dick out of my mouth before he blew his load over my face and chest.” “What happened after that?” “We spent the summer after high school sucking each other off. We didn’t need porn mags. I dated some of my girl friends and, when fall came, I went to college and he went into the service.” “Gawd, I wish that had been me. When did you learn you were bi?” “All through college, I was pretty straight. I quickly learned that a lot of women like to screw as much as I did. After I graduated and went to work, I met a number of couples and singles where I found that if you were a switch hitter, you got a lot of action.” “Of course, I’ve become more careful. Early on, if you saw a hole, you filled it. Cunt, mouth or ass. It didn’t make any difference. Sex, woman or man, didn’t matter either. We didn’t use condoms or dams. I’m more circumspect and careful now.” “Well, I’m clean and healthy.” “So am I” “Listening to you has gotten me turned on. Let’s go upstairs.” When we got into our suite, I suggested we shower. I went first. I quickly showered and slipped on one of the hotel robes. I fixed a couple of drinks while Gil showered. It wasn’t the old ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ ploy, but I figured a slightly stiff drink would relax the inhibitions and stiffen the resolve. Of course, booze can relax everything if one isn’t careful. When Gil came out of the bathroom he was wearing a hotel robe too. I handed him a drink. He laughed, “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “No. Actually, It’s a lever to pry your robe open.” Gil set his drink down and untied his robe. He opened it then let it slip to the floor. I was looking at a nicely toned and fit man with a hard-on that needed to be taken care of. I sat my drink down, leaned over and took Gil’s cockhead between my lips. I sank to me knees and slipped my robe off my shoulders. I rose up on my knees. I put one hand on Gil’s leg and I cupped his balls in my other hand. As I pushed Gil’s hard cock into my mouth, I felt his knees buckle slightly. Gil’s cock felt good in my mouth. It felt as good when I sucked my high school buddy’s cock for the first time. It was the first time for Gil. And, I thought to myself, you still are a cocksucker. Gil was so excited that he quickly began to cum. I held his cock and let him shoot his load on my chest. “I’m sorry for cumming so fast. I couldn’t help it, your mouth felt so good.” “Don’t worry about it. A hair trigger cock is pretty normal. Let’s get comfortable on the bed. I stopped by the bathroom and washed his cum off my chest. Gil was sitting on the edge of the bed when I came out of the bath. I sat beside him then I put my hand between his legs and grasped his cock. “Let’s get you up again.” I jacked his cock as I got on my knees again in front of him again. His cock was in my hand as I leaned forward and licked his hairy ball sac. I moved my tongue up the underbelly of his cock with a long lick. This was followed with an overall tongue swabbing of his cockhead. Then another long lick sliding down the underbelly. After nuzzling his ball sac with my nose, I gently sucked one of his nuts between my lips. I felt his cock swell and stiffen in my hand. I gently bathed both of his nuts in my mouth before stopping. I looked up at Gil’s face. He had a sort of silly grin. “Lie back on the bed.” He scooted to the center of the bed and lay back. I lay on my side facing his crotch. My semi- soft cock flopped down on my thigh. I held Gil’s balls in my hand as I sucked his cock into my mouth again. I gently tugged and squeezed his balls as I ran my tongue over and around his cockhead. Alternating between sucking and swabbing soon brought him to the point of cumming again. I held Gil’s cock as he shot his second load onto his stomach. Each time a wad shot out of his cock Gil would go “Ahhhhh, that’s sweet!” I released his cock and pushed myself up on an elbow. Gil looked at me, “You suck cock better than my wife.” “Thank you.” He pushed himself up on his side. He reached out and touched my dangling cock. “Lie back.” Then he got up in a kneeling position and leaned over me. He tentatively licked my cock shaft and then looked up at me. “Just do what you like to have done to you.” Gil held my cock upright. He touched the cockhead to his lips then he gently stroked me while he kneaded my ball sac. My cock grew hard. Gil licked up and down the cock shaft until he slipped his lips over my cockhead. He held it there a minute before he looked up at me. “I like the feel and taste of it in my mouth.” He lowered his mouth over my cock again. For some minutes he sucked and pushed me deeper into his mouth until he gagged. I touched his head, “Slow down. That comes with practice and experience.” He took my cock out of his mouth. A string of spit ran between his lips and my cockhead. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. Do you want to indulge your fantasy?” “Fantasy?” “Yes. I’ll suck you while you suck me.” Gil grinned, “Sure.” “Well, move around.” Gil moved around so we were both face to cock. I opened my mouth and leaned into his crotch. As his cock entered my mouth, I thought that I had better be gentle with him. His cock was probably a little tender after being sucked off twice in a short time. Gil sucked me equally gently. After several minutes of sucking I felt Gil’s cock begin to get more rigid. I touched his ball sac. It was tight. Rather that take his cock out of my mouth I decided to swallow any cum he might shoot for the third time. I figured he couldn’t have much left. It turned out he was a copious cummer, but I swallowed anyway. I held his cock between my lips while it softened. Gil stopped sucking me. “You swallowed my cum.” “It seemed the polite thing to do.” “My wife never swallows my cum.” “Relax, it was nothing. Besides I’m not your wife.” Gil stretched, “I wish you would cum.” “It’s o.k. Maybe later.” I looked at the clock. “It’s late. We better get some rest.” Gil looked at the clock. “Oh, yeah. I don’t want to work tomorrow. I want to suck you until you cum.” I turned and started to get off the bed. “We have plenty of time for that.” “Where are you going?” “Too sleep in the other bed.” “Let’s sleep together.” “If you want too.” I got back on the bed. I still had some of his cum in my mouth so I spread in on my lips and leaned over and kissed him. I lay back on the pillow. Gil sat up, “Is that me?” “Yes.” He leaned over and planted his mouth on mine. He pushed his tongue into my mouth. After running his tongue all around, he broke the kiss and fell back, “Good night.” “Good night, but don’t you think we should pull back the covers?” “Oh, yeah.” We both laughed as we got off the bed and pulled down the covers. I awakened in the early morning. I felt like I was having a wet dream but it was Gil. He was under the covers and he was licking and kissing my cock. I pushed the covers back. Gil looked at me, “ Spread your legs.” I spread my legs as he lay down between them. He pushed my cock into his mouth and he began some serious cock sucking. He was determined. The scratching of his beard against my skin was an erotic turn-on. It didn’t take long for cum to start boiling up from my nuts. “I’m cumming.” All I heard was a muffled ‘munff’. Gil tried to swallow my load but it was too much. He started to gag and cough and I blew my load onto my stomach. Gil crawled back up to the pillows. “I’ll swallow it all next time.” Then he fell asleep. I pulled the covers back over us and I fell asleep again too. I awakened when the clock radio turned on. Gil stretched and sat up. He looked at me, “I dreamed I blew you until you came.” “That wasn’t a dream.” “Oh. Good. Let’s shower.” We washed each other and we both got down on our knees in the shower and sucked each other’s cock while the water cascaded over us. Sucking in the shower, another fantasy for some. We ordered from room service. While eating breakfast, Gil asked me what I planned to do all day while he was at work. “Since I’m in town, I make some courtesy calls and several of my firm’s clients. And don’t worry, I’ll be here tonight if you want to come back.” “Oh, I want to come back. I’ll be back at five fifteen.” Gil was good at his word. He came through the door on the dot at five fifteen. I took his computer case and helped him take off his jacket. After hanging his jacket in the closet, I handed him a cocktail. “Last night at dinner, I noticed you ordered a Manhattan. I hope these are mixed the way you like them.” Gil sipped the drink, “Mmm, just right.” “I ordered Beef Wellington for dinner. It should be here in forty-five minutes. You get comfortable and loosen your tie, while I get comfortable and loosen your fly.” I sank to my knees in front of him. After unzipping his trouser fly, moving the shirttails aside and opening the fly of his boxers, I gently pulled his soft cock and hairy ball sac out of his clothing. Gil looked down at me and watched as I exposed his pink succulent cockhead by skinning his foreskin back. I closed my lips over his cockhead so my lips rested on the sensitive rim of the crown. I rubbed my tongue over his soft skin. I glanced at the reflection in the full-length mirror, which was hung on the wall beside the suite door. Gil was also looking at the mirror. Our eyes met as he watched his cock lengthen and stiffen to fill my mouth. After setting his cocktail glass down, Gil touched my head. “Let’s go in the bedroom.” He took off his tie, shirt and undershirt as he walked into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes and socks then he stood and removed his trousers and underwear. He sat back down and looked at me, “Come closer.” Gil unbuckled my belt, opened my waistband and pushed my trousers and shorts to the floor. He leaned forward and sucked my soft cock into his mouth. I felt his nose nestle in my pubic hair. I took off my shirt and t-shirt while Gil sucked me with rapid soda straw sucks. He stopped sucking and looked up at me, “I’ve waited impatiently all day to do this.” “Well, you better make it a quick taste before Room Service arrives.” Gil squeezed my cock; “I’ll save it for dessert.” I pushed my shoes off and stepped out of the trousers and shorts bunched around my ankles. I picked up my clothes and shoes and carried them over to the closet. After hanging my shirt and trousers up, I put the t-shirt and shorts in the laundry bag. I balanced on one foot then the other as I removed my socks and bagged them. “I’d like to photograph you sometime.” I turned and walked towards him, “Pardon?” “I’d like to make nude and homoerotic photos of you.” “I’m flattered, but we better get dressed unless you want to give the Room Service waiter something to talk about in the kitchen. Gil laughed as we slipped into light sweat pants, t-shirts and sandals. Dinner arrived just as we finished dressing. Gil picked up his tie, shirt and undershirt off the floor from where he had dropped them, tossed them into the bedroom and pulled the door shut. Dinner was set up quickly. I opened a bottle a bottle of decent burgundy wine. We talked about Gil’s work and my business while we ate. Gil looked at me, “Seriously, I’d like to photograph you. Just for my own enjoyment of course. “To be honest, I’d have to think about it.” “You’d be great.” “I’d have to think about it.” Gil grinned, “Enough small talk. It’s time for dessert.” He stood up and undressed, then he walked over to me and pulled my t-shirt off me. I stood and took off my sweat pants. Gil sat back down. He gestured me closer. He sipped some wine then held my cock as he pushed his lips over it. The wine felt cool on my skin. He sucked me for a minute or so then he took another sip of wine. This time, as he sucked my cock into his mouth, some of the wine ran down my cock shaft and into my pubic hair and onto my ball sac. Again, Gil sucked me for a few minutes then he licked the wine off my balls. His voice was hoarse, “Let’s go to bed.” I followed him into the bedroom. I lay down and Gil got over me in a kneeling 69. He plunged his mouth down over my cock. I put a pillow under my head and I leisurely sucked him off and played with his balls as he devoured me. I had to ask Gil to be less rough. He settled into long deep sucks that slipped his lips up and down my cock. Gil was a voracious cocksucker. It seemed that he couldn’t get enough. I know I blew my load at least three time during the night. I also ate my share of cock and cum that night. In the morning, we cleaned up the dinner dishes and traded them to Room Service for breakfast. After breakfast, I drove Gil to the light rail station. He returned to his “straight” world and I returned to the hotel. That was twenty years ago. As Gil said, “We started as pen pals and became penis pals. For a long time we met three or four times a year. Each meeting was an oral fest and a feast of cocks and balls. Surprisingly enough anal sex and butt fucking never became a practice. Pen Pals We meet more frequently now. And it is still an oral sex extravaganza. He’s made photographs of me and I’ve photographed Gil. But that is a theme for another story. Several years ago Gil informed me that he and his wife were divorcing. They didn’t have any children and he thought that might be the root cause. Then he worried that she had found out about his closet cock sucking. He was wrong on both counts. It turns out she liked “dining at the y” as much as he did. She left him for her Lover, another woman. Pen Pals I pulled into a quiet parking lot blocked off by a gate. I saw Allison's form, half hidden by the night, half revealed by my solitary headlight. Being close to the ocean, and the night-time chill, she had a warm sweater dress that draped over her curves. Beautiful full hips and a full bosom swayed in the chill night air as she motioned me into the parking lot. I took a spot and stepped from the car to see her smiling at me as she waited patiently, leaning against my passenger door as I turned off the NPR and joined her in the brisk ocean breeze. I trapped her against the side of the car, putting my arms on either side of her and standing close, our bodies almost touching; The warmth of each other barely perceptible. I leaned in and stopped inches from her lips, looking into her eyes and smiling at her pleased discomfiture. We'd been pen-pals for a long time, and our missives had been anything but innocent. Allison smiled broadly, but shied away from bringing her lips to mine. I leaned in closer, my lips millimeters from her neck. She took a sharp breath. I held her in suspense for a moment longer before kissing her neck, gently kissing my way up to her lips. She shuddered, and pressed her lips into mine as we pecked and pulled, tongues dancing. I pressed her to the car with my body as we kissed for a moment longer, enjoying the warmth of each other before heading inside for the drinks and movie we'd agreed on. Once inside her cottage, we went into the kitchen. She gave me a glass with ice, and held another -- empty. I poured us both a starting drink out of a the bottle of Knob Creek I'd brought with me. We looked out over the ocean briefly, holding our drinks and conversing about recent developments before we sat down to Stranger than Fiction. She sat down in front of the television. I followed suit, sitting a couple inches away, putting my arm behind her. I could see her tense with our closeness as the movie started. As the movie progressed, We made more small talk. As Will Ferrell fumbled with words, I closed my arm in around her shoulder and knee, and motioned her over to me. I felt her warmth as we sat close. I left my arm around her, and allowed my hand to travel up just a little further and rest on her leg, just above the knee. We made it all the way to the awkward auditor play a few guitar chords before, looking at each other awkwardly, I moved in close and held her in suspense for a few moments. As she hesitated I closed the gap and we kissed, more urgently this time. The sweet aftertaste of bourbon on our lips, we tasted each other. I wove a hand into the hair on the back of her head, pressing her gently into my lips as we teased each others tongues. As the kissing became more urgent I squeezed her shoulders to me, and moved my hand slowly up her leg. I felt her legs part, barely perceptibly, until I'd reached the already moistened undergarments that blocked my way. I massaged gently, tracing the lips of her pussy, feeling the folds that protected her clitoris. I swept the panties to one side, and slid a finger between those lips, feeling the warmth and wetness invite my finger into her. I put the tips of two fingers into her entrance, teasing her with the closeness of penetration before backing off and lightly teasing her clitoris with twirly fingers. We kissed more and more passionately, and her hips began to move forward, urging me to press harder, and enter her. I continued to tease her, light touch, temptingly firm before moving away again. I grabbed her far knee and used my arm around her to pull her on top of me as continued to kiss frantically. Her hips ground against my hardening cock as she strained to feel me. I traced her hips with my hands. Feeling the lovely curve of her hips turning into lovely sides, her back arched, and neck straining as we continued our exploration of each other. "Would you like to move this somewhere more comfortable?" I asked her. She pointed at the bedroom and nodded her head smiling. "Go get on the bed." I told her, as I paused the movie, and dug in my bag of tricks. I saw her get onto the bed nervously, and try to decide on a position to lay in. "Sit on the sit on the edge of the bed with your feet on the floor" I said, smiling to myself as I found what I was looking for. A rather standard vibrator. I walked over to her and stood in front of her; I threw the vibrator onto the bed. I smiled at her as I stood with my cock pressing against my pants right in front of her. She knew what to do from our conversations. She took off my belt, and undid the button on my pants. She pulled down my zipper, and removed my pants, my cock springing free, right in front of her face. I wove my fingers into her hair and pressed her onto my cock. She began to take it into her mouth greedily, pushing herself to engulf more and more of it. As she reached her limit, I pressed into her mouth, holding her head to me gently, swelling in her mouth. Feeling myself too close to climax, I grasped the hair on the back of her neck and pulled her head away from me. I held her head, gently exposing her neck. I kissed it before venturing further toward her breasts, bulging in her simple knit dress. I joined her lips again, putting my hands on both her knees, underneath her dress. "Stand up," I told her as I swept my hands up to her hips, revealing milky thighs, wide hips narrowing into her waist beautifully. I kissed her again as I began to pull the dress toward and over her shoulders, leaving her standing in front of me nervously. "Lovely," I said, smiling. She grinned but couldn't seem to manage words. "Take them off," I told her her. I took the opportunity to place my shirt on the floor. Once the underwear was gone I kissed her once more and lowered her to the bed. Once there I grabbed the vibrator and teased her entrance with it before letting it enter her. I slid it in and out of her, as her juices smoothed the passage. I turned up the vibrator up and began to tease her clit with my fingers. She moaned and mouthed, "Yes, please". I kept the vibrator moving in and out of her as I lowered my head to her pussy, and smelled her before flicking my tongue out, barely teasing the lips of her wet mound. She moaned again and tried to move her hips into my tongue, but once again found me retreating. "Please, don't tease me," She asked, short of breath as the vibrator did its work. I kept up the teasing for a few more moments as she groaned in frustration before attacking her clit with my tongue, holding the folds of her open with my free hand allowing me to swirl around her clit, darting my tongue over it. She began to moan louder and her hips began to buck more urgently. I continued the rotation of licks and broad strokes while increasing the tempo of the vibrator pushing in and out of her. As she began to yell, "Don't stop, please, Don't stop." I firmed my lips and took her clit in between them. She ground her clit into my face as I pressed back against her holding her clit firmly. I slid my tongue over her clit, still held between my lips, faster and harder as she continued to moan. I could feel her need, and continued my assault on her pussy and clitoris, until I felt the tell-tale shudders of her impending orgasm. I attacked harder bringing her over the edge, breathing heavily. As she caught her breath I once again slid my hands into the hair on the back of her head, kissing her and asking, "You taste wonderful, taste yourself on my lips, you're not done yet." She smiled at me as we kissed, "I hope not," she said impishly. I pulled her into a sitting position by her hair, gently, using her mane to guide her where I wanted her. I put a hand on her neck, my thumb on her cheek as I kissed her again before whispering into her ear. "As I remember there were some things you were curious about." As I held onto her mane. I pushed a shoulder to move her around, facing the bed. I pushed a knee onto the bed and told her, "Get on the bed and lay down on your stomach." She smiled and did so eagerly as I released her. I reached into my bag of tricks again. I found the blindfold and tied it around her eyes as she lay there in front of me, a vision of sexual energy. She smiled, but nervously. A little anxious at losing her sense of sight. I took four restraints out of my bag and buckled them onto her hands and ankles. I clasped her hands together, and then her feet together. As soon as she was restrained I rubbed my hands together vigorously before adding a little oil. I placed them on her back and began to work the oils into her skin, smoothing out the muscles along her spine with my large firm hands. I rubbed gentle circles around her neck, and wiggled my fingers while keep them firm; I rubbed down from her neck, down her shoulders, down her arms. Several times I repeated the path. Down her neck, down her shoulders, down her spine. I followed her muscles as then relaxed, down her lower back to the edge of her luscious ass. And once I finally reached her ass, I slapped her right cheek firmly. She jumped and took in a sharp breath. "Are you ready for my cock," I said, reaching between her legs and massaging her clit. "Please," She said, "Don't make me wait, give me your cock." I put my cock her in hands, bound together, and she worked it as best she could, laying face down on the bed. I slid myself between her hands, the massage oil allowing our skin to slide over one another. I pulled away and put a hand on her lower back, near her ass as I brought my other hand down again with a loud crack. "I'm not really convinced you're ready." "Give me your cock, NOW!" she shouted impatiently. My hand came down twice more. "I think you're ready," I said, "But you don't get to call the shots either." I spanked her again for good measure before grabbing her legs and pulling her hips to the edge of the bed and allowing her bound feet to hit the floor, her knees floating between her and the bed. I leaned over her, holding myself up on my elbows. My left hand wiggled into her hair, pulling her head back gently as I caressed her cheek with my. I held her head in place and used my right hand to slide my cock up and down over the warm, slicked entrance to her pussy. She pushed her hips back trying to sink my cock into her, but I teased her, never quite entering her. "Please, fuck me. Just fuck me" She said. I chuckled as I pulled back again, rubbing her clit with my cock. She moaned in frustration continuing to buck. I finally relented, sliding into her cunt and sliding slowly as deep as I could, my hips pressing her into the bed. I used my right hand to grip her shoulder and pull her into me. I began to push in and out of her, softly. I reached down and played with her clit as my cock pulled out and then descended rhythmically. I kept fucking her slowly, my cock making its way in and out of her, but I rubbed her clit with more intensity. I could feel her muscles, stimulated by the clitoral contact, gripping my cock tighter as I drove into her as deep as I could. I began fucking her faster and harder as her breaths shortened and she moaned, "Fuck me, Please fuck me harder" I picked up my pace and began to slide my fingers over her clit, pressing more firmly and moving them faster, aided by the massage oils. My cock plunged in and out of her. Harder and harder as I instinctively raced toward my own orgasm. I could feel hers building. I pulled myself out of her for a moment, slapping her ass again. I rolled her onto the bed, settling her on her back as she gasped, and said, "Why did you stop, just keep fucking me." I laughed and released her hands and feet, but leaving the blindfold. I grabbed her legs and put them over my shoulders, positioning myself between her legs. I slid a vibrating ring on my cock and held a vibrator in my other hand. I leaned over her and entered her, pressing as deep as I could, the vibrating ring stimulating her clit. I began to move in and out, picking up the pace quickly as we found our rhythm again. I lowered the vibrator to her clit as I used my other hand to press her into the bed. I slammed into her pussy, maintaining a fast, steady pace, sliding the vibrator around her clit. I began to fuck her pussy more and more savagely as I felt her building, closer and closer to climax. I continued fucking her as I turned off the vibrator and brought it to her mouth. She took it in as far as she could, tasting her own juices while I slammed into her roughly, grinding against her, feeling her hips grind right back into mine as the cock ring worked its magic on her. We ground together for another moment. I took the vibrator out of her mouth and put it into her hands and guiding her hands to her pussy. She continued to build toward her orgasm as I fucked her more and more roughly, slamming into her. I grabbed her savagely by both upper arms, trapping them against her sides. I lowered my head and engulfed her breasts with my mouth, my tongue twirling around her nipples. I put my lips over my teeth and pinched them before kissing my way up to her neck, and then meeting her tongue again, the vibrator pressed between us as I raised and lowered my hips and she rocked to meet every thrust. I held myself up, still grasping her arms and pressing her forcefully into the bed. She moaned with more urgency and I used my grip on her upper arms to pull her into my every thrust. "Fuck me harder, I'm so close," she squealed in ecstasy, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." She repeated. I fucked her harder, but held off until she finally yelled, "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, FUCK MEE." I let myself go, reaching for my own orgasm just behind hers. I slammed into her as hard and rapidly as I could, seeking my own orgasm. She squealed and moaned as her orgasm washed over her and the fucking continued to intensify. I slammed into her with everything I had, feeling myself convulsing into her pussy, stimulated by the waves of her orgasm. We shuddered in each others arms as I collapsed on her, barely holding my weight off of her with my elbows as I emptied myself into her pussy. I lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, deep inside her. Pen Pals Cynthia was twenty-seven years old when she discovered that she was unable to do whatever she set her mind to with ease. It might seem like a strange age to discover such a thing, as usually a person will find their confidence shaken long before then. Everyone has their strengths, and all that. But Cynthia Weber, apple of her parents eye and habitual success machine had always found that she naturally took to all things she tried. From running track and playing girls lacrosse in high school, to academics and the arts in college, to her job working as a paralegal in a large firm settled in central London. Even moving abroad and ending up in England in the first place had been a breeze, despite growing up in small town America where anything further than the Dairy Queen in the next town seemed an entire world away. Yes, Cynthia had always held the bull by the balls. But when she discovered the severe plumbing problems in the little flat she had purchased upon arriving in London, she met her match. Her father had always done the home improvements at home, her family being the picture of traditional gender roles. So when a pipe burst and her bathroom flooded, she knew that the first call she should have made was to a plumber. Which she did, and which she firmly regretted when she got his estimate for the job. Her savings had already dwindled to next to nothing thanks to her costly relocation. Her new home was mortgaged, and her job paid well but not enough to cover her credit cards (which were maxed) and the plumbing. So the woman made a decision; she would fix it herself. How hard could it be? The answer was: really fucking hard. She didn't know a pipe wrench from a vise grip, and before long she was finding herself extremely grateful for the tiny second bathroom that still worked in her flat. But she didn't give up hope, and found herself turning to the trusty internet to help her out. It was there that she found her a forum specializing in home improvement, where people who had an actual idea of what the hell they were doing kindly offered their expertise and assistance to the poor little American girl who had become completely overwhelmed by her task. It was on this forum that she met Gerald Parkman. At fifty-one years old, he had ample time over the years to figure out how to fix a busted pipe. Given his natural inclination towards fussiness, he had learned to take care of many basic tasks that would have required a tradesman, and he had been a lifesaver for Cynthia. With his instruction and patient guidance through private messages, she had slowly managed to minimize the damage and fix a few things in her bathroom. He had even helped her to find someone else who charged much less to fix what was left over, while giving her pointers for other areas of her flat that needed work. Throughout these messages they would often slip in personal conversation, getting to know one another. She knew his favorite food, and he knew that she went for a run in the evenings. They had spoken at length about favorite movies, music and even recommended books to one another. Given the difference in their ages, they seemed to have a great deal in common. So when the bathroom was fixed and her flat fixed up, they still continued to speak. Only they took the next step and began to write at their respective email addresses, a touch more intimate to both of them. Not that anything that was said there had been inappropriate, more mildly flirtatious. At least as much as Gerald was willing to flirt, though he seemed to delight in her occasional implications and teasing. After a particularly long day at the office, Cynthia happily entered her apartment, slipped off her shoes and jacket and headed to her computer. As it loaded the operating system, she wandered into the kitchen for a glass of wine, pulling her long, dark hair from its bun and shaking it out over her shoulders. She was an attractive women, though not a beauty queen. Her hair was thick and a dark brown, almost black. Her skin was a light brown, though her ethnicity was always difficult for others to distinguish. Her eyes were so dark that they glittered like polished onyx, surrounded by thick lashes that she always wished were longer. As for her body, she always considered it average. She was neither overweight nor thin, with a soft stomach and large breasts that were not nearly as firm as she would like. Her hips were narrow, but her bottom rounded just enough to be seen in the right kind of jeans. Cynthia curled that body into a chair now, blowing a strand of hair from her face with her full lips. This had become a regular routine, getting online to surf various forums, read blogs or watch shows thanks to her not having a television with a working license. But her first port of call was always her email account, and when she saw Gerald's name heading a new message she grinned happily. From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 5:47 PM To: Cynthia Weber Hello Cynthia, You know, it doesn't matter how often I type your email address in, it still makes me laugh. I am almost thinking of creating one of my own, just to have something more interesting than my former work address to write to you from. How are you? You had mentioned the other day that you had a large staff meeting to attend this morning, and you seemed nervous. I hope everything went well? In any case, I doubt you have anything to fear, even if there have been rumors of redundancies. I can only imagine they would be lost without such a clever woman on the payroll. Sincerely, Gerald Cynthia read over this email with a smile. He was always considerate, and he frequently brought up things she had mentioned in the past. Which was much better than the last several men she had dated, all of whom were much too preoccupied with her tits to care much about what was going on in her life. Taking a quick sip of her wine and placing it down on the desk, she opened up a reply window and wrote him back. Hopefully, he would be online and they could have one of their enjoyable evening chats... * * * Gerald Parkman had, for the most part, lived a satisfying life. He came from a working class family, and he had not been in a position to go to university. But after working for a time at his father's struggling building company, he had secured a low level position in his early twenties at an insurance agency. Over the decades he had managed to climb the ladder, sticking with the same company tenaciously until he had been poached by a rivaling business and placed into upper-middle management. Marrying young, his wife Agatha had watched him become more successful. He had been able to give her the things she wanted; a nice house, regular holidays, the ability to stay home with their only son, Anthony. All of which she had enjoyed, along with her credit cards, and she showed her appreciation by being an attentive and loving wife. Over time, their relationship had...not soured, that wasn't the right word. More ebbed away into something barely there. They were friendly and courteous to one another, and fights were non-existent. Sadly, that was due to the lack of passion and communication, rather than any improvement in their marriage. As evidenced by their total lack of a sex life. When they had first gotten married, Agatha had been willing to have sex, if not especially enthusiastic about it. Not that Gerald had ever complained, and over time he began to feel as though his desires were disrespectful to the wholesome woman who became all the more long suffering in performing the most basic of sexual tasks. By the time their son was born, they made love perhaps once every couple of months. As Anthony grew, he was lucky to get any physical affection beyond a peck on the cheek. Besides the occasional spontaneous hand job out of pity, sex had entirely dried up by the time the boy was in high school. Gerald had long since been spending more and more time at the office at this point. He would never be unfaithful to his wife, no matter how tempted, and so he kept himself busy at work. His office became a refuge, and the one place where, after hours, he would look at pornography and guiltily hide the evidence of his wanking before heading home. Usually thinking about the young women in the office that he would be forced to look in the eye the next day. However depressing it might all seem, he was not unhappy. Sure, he was sexually unfulfilled, but he felt that it was rather his own fault for being so fixated on his desires anyway. The rest of his life had been a triumph of hard work, and he had many benefits for it. His son was a good boy, who had been accepted into a top university, which Gerald could not be more proud about. As for his marriage, he truly did love his wife and he felt lucky to have such a good woman who cared so deeply for him. Things began to take a turn for the worst the fall of his fiftieth year. He had been in the kitchen, preparing for another long day of work. As he half-heartedly listened to his wife trying to convince him to take a holiday in Spain that year, he started to notice a tingling in his left arm. At first, he thought it had fallen asleep and began to rub his shoulder. But before long it coalesced into a sharp pain that spread to his chest. It had been Gerald's first heart attack, and a wake up call for a lifestyle change. The biggest of which was his company insisting that he take early retirement, cutting off his lifeline and ending a career that had given him a sense of purpose in life. He liked to think that this had not triggered anything major, like a midlife crisis. It had merely forced upon him a pallor of boredom that he had been adamant he overcome. There was some belief from his wife that they would spend the time together, doing things they had always wanted. Unfortunately, it became apparent that the two had nothing in common, and within the first few months she had retreated to her own activities and left him to his devices. Who would have known that those 'things they had always wanted' were not the same for either of them? Gerald had turned to projects to keep him occupied. When the small ones were not doing it for him anymore, he took on a much larger task he had always told himself he would do: a full house remodel, including an extension on the left side of the house. It was the perfect way to exhaust his energy and keep him from lingering too long on the growing discontent in the back of his mind. While he could do a number of useful things around the house, he needed help. So he had become active on a number of websites, the most frequent being a forum that had sparked his home improvement project into a full hobby. Especially as it gave him a chance to offer his expertise to others, and so feel useful once again. He was halfway through the remodel when he met Cynthia. The young woman was nothing more than another post with a problem, at first. But the more they spoke, the more he began to like her. And the more that tense feeling he refused to examine seemed to increase within him. It was when they exchanged photos - a friendly gesture - that he found himself becoming a little obsessed. He had not given much thought up to that point of what she looked like. When she jokingly brought up the fact that he could be anyone, like a 14-year-old boy with a hardware magazine membership, he had laughed and searched out some old holiday photographs from two years before. Sending her one, he had been surprised when he had gotten a photo back. The young woman in the photo was sitting with who he assumed to be several members of her family, including smiling parents and perhaps her brothers. She had dark eyes and hair, and smooth, tanned skin. The word that fluttered to mind as he studied the photograph was 'exotic'. He had been unable to keep himself from letting his eyes glance to the slight bit of cleavage peeking through the v-neck shirt, and her large, firm breasts. She was beautiful in an unconventional way that he found he liked, and with her warm personality, wit and charm, he was immediately hooked. Though this was a secret attraction only, and he did everything in his power to control it. He was, after all, a married man. Besides, she was a fraction of his age, and he liked her too much to make her uncomfortable. He was terrified that if she knew the developing thoughts and fantasies of which she starred, she would stop speaking to him. Attracted he might be, but all he really sought was a bit of friendly conversation. He had spent the day painting the small upstairs office, and it was currently airing out. The windows all over the house were open to the quickly darkening autumn night. His wife had cleared out for the evening, participating in a function he hadn't really heard her explanation of. Some kind of raffle? Or maybe a sale of some kind? In any case, he was alone once more with the stereo playing quietly in the background. He barely heard the music that in today's world was classified as 'oldies', but he could still remember hearing for the first time as a kid. He was surfing the net to avoid having to think on that too clearly. Taking a sip of iced tea, he opened up a new browser tab and checked his email. A small smile flickered on his lips when he saw Cynthia's name waiting in his inbox, a reply to his earlier message. Experiencing the small wiggle of excitement that made him feel like a foolish schoolboy, he opened the email and read her response. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 6:25 PM To: Gerald Parkman Hey Gerald, As always, you're right. It turns out I had nothing to worry about...technically, I have been promoted. I will be heading the group of paralegals on staff, which is a step up. The problem is that my bosses are still cheap bastards, so while I will have more responsibility I won't have a bigger paycheck to show for it. Oh well, it is better than getting canned, I suppose. Otherwise, my day has been long but standard. What about you? You had mentioned you planned on tackling that paint job in your office. Did it go well? Feeling high from the paint fumes? I am about to feel blissfully tipsy from my wine. Wish you were here to share a glass. :) By the way, thank you for the compliment. Hopefully my employers start to see me as intelligent and indispensable as you do! Cynthia - - - From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 6:37 PM To: Cynthia Weber Sadly, I received many of those 'promotions' during my career. The good news is that if you take it with a smile and do well, a pay raise can't be too far behind. The trick is showing them that they couldn't possibly run things as smoothly without you there. Once you convince them of that (which I doubt should be difficult, in your case) you are on your way to bigger and better things. The office is complete, and with minimum pain involved. Though I did have to redo the baseboard when it came out uneven near the door. Enough of that, I would hate to ramble. I am not much of a drinker and never have been. But a glass of wine sounds nearly as lovely as the company. My own glass is filled with nothing stronger than iced tea with lemon, which is being enjoyed in an empty house. Perhaps I will take the wine, after all. Though I would worry about my behavior. Especially if I have, indeed, been affected by the paint fumes. Who knows what shocking things I might divulge? * * * Cynthia stared at the message in surprise, reading over the last bit a couple of times as she sipped her second glass of red. Was he flirting? It wasn't much to go on, but given his usual replies even when she herself teased him, it was something different. Her eyes slid over the final sentence. "'Who knows what shocking things I might divulge?'" she read out in a hushed voice. A small smirk touched her lips. "Oh yes, what might you say, Mr. Parkman?" To her surprise, she found that she rather liked the idea that he may be flirting. She had never really considered him as a love interest. He was so much older than her, for one thing, and he was married, for another. She wasn't in the habit of sleeping with anyone in a committed relationship, much less a man old enough to be her father. Despite this, she found herself biting her lip as she typed out her reply. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 6:51 PM To: Gerald Parkman Iced tea? You are a rebel, aren't you? ;) If you put a splash of rum in the glass we would be talking about my kind of beverage. I can understand staying away from the booze, and I try not to partake too much unless it is a special weekend or occasion. Though I have to say it is a real shame...I bet you have all sort of interesting secrets in let lose. You might be shocked to know that I have plenty of my own. * * * As he read her message he felt his eyebrow creep up into an arch. Secrets? It seemed obvious that she was flirting with him, though she had done so playfully before. This didn't feel quite the same, however. There was a touch more intimacy in the implication, and he felt a slight heat in his gut as he wondered at what those 'secrets' might be. Though his mind was telling him he should stop this now, he ignored the voice of warning. After all, nothing had been said that wasn't perfectly innocent. So what if there was a bit more of a teasing tone to it this time? It had been so long since Gerald had indulged in such a conversation that it seemed high time he allowed himself a minor pleasure. He sat staring at the screen for a full minute, unsure of himself. This was unfamiliar territory, and he wasn't sure how much was too much. In the end, he decided to follow her example and never take a step beyond where she left them. It seemed the safest route, and still thrilling to consider. From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 6:55 PM To: Cynthia Weber Secrets? Me? I am afraid that my thoughts are hardly exciting enough to catch the interests of such an enticing woman as yourself. Though I will admit that a couple of glasses of alcohol would make my confessions a tad more surprising than without them. Now your secrets are another matter entirely. I can only imagine what fascinating quirks linger behind those big, brown eyes of yours. Have another glass of wine, for me. - - - From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:01 PM To: Gerald Parkman Why Gerald Parkman! Are you trying to get me drunk? Because if you are, there are much more effective drinks than wine to get the job done. Then again, I might just spill my secrets without the help of liquor, if you were to coax me. I bet your own thoughts are much more scandalous than you let on. I have to admit that my own have gotten a lot more heated since I broke up with my ex. That always happens to me when I am single. - - - From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:11 PM To: Cynthia Weber I am sorry to say that marriage doesn't always help that. Of course, not all couples are like Agatha and myself. We don't discuss anything that would be considered inappropriate, as it makes her uncomfortable. It is shocking that you are single. A woman like you must have men lining up around the block to woo you. Pen Pals - - - From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:25 PM To: Gerald Parkman I wish! It has been so long since I had a date that I am worrying I have forgotten how. It has been even longer since I had sex, but thankfully I am pretty sure I remember how to do that. It's like riding a bike...you never forget, it just takes some practice to get back into things. Do you and your wife never talk about sex, at all? Is it just that you have become so in tune to what the other wants that it isn't necessary? I hope I am not prying, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. * * * Gerald sat staring at the message for several moments, trying to decide what to do. The word had been uttered: sex. It was out in the open now, and she was asking for specifics. Although her questioning seemed rather general, and so there was nothing wrong with assuaging her curiosity...right? Making a decision, he took a deep breath. He would be honest, she deserved that. Besides, it was just a normal part of life, and maybe it would give her some kind of aid when the time came for her to settle down. From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:31 PM To: Cynthia Weber My wife and I don't have sex. At least, we have not in a very long time. I would say it has been around five years since we last made love. Before that, it was a rarity. She has just never been especially interested, and I don't want to push her. Besides, we have other elements to our marriage that are rewarding. She has always been good to me, and so I count my blessings and move on. * * * Of everything he could have said, that had been entirely unexpected. Cynthia couldn't begin to imagine a life without any sexual activity. Even her own dry spell had lasted only three months, and it was the longest she had ever gone without such intimacy. To be married and still not enjoy those pleasures? It was unthinkable. She read over his message a few times, catching the tone of his justifications. He was quick to defend his wife without even seeing her reaction, as if he knew it was abnormal but not wanting her to think badly of Agatha. In an odd way it warmed Cynthia's heart, to see the dedication and love he obviously held for his wife. It also sparked something strange inside of her. Sitting there, thinking of how long it had been since the man had received pleasure from a partner, was making her almost...aroused. Her mind created images of offering him what his wife would not. Not to mention the things she could give him that perhaps Agatha had refused to when they had been intimate in the past. Opening up the photo he had sent her, she studied his form. It was a holiday picture, taken on the dock of a harbor. Gerald himself stood a little stiffly, obviously not a fan of cameras. He was tall, though it was hard to see exactly what his height might be; perhaps a little over six feet. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he was in fairly good shape. There was a tiny paunch and spread that she would expect from a man of middle age, but he was by no means overweight. His hair was dark, maybe a deep brown. At the temples and streaked a little through the sides he had gone gray, but it looked good. Distinguished and sophisticated, as men so often did. His face was aged, but not horribly. The lines were mostly around his mouth and eyes, which she found quite becoming. Even his small, restrained smile was attractive. Even though he was not conventionally handsome, the mild quirk of his lips made him very much so. But what caught her eyes most were his hands. They were large, even from the picture she could see that. Big square palms were tipped with long, thick fingers. She could just imagine those digits tweaking her nipples, or sliding up her thighs... A little alarmed by her reaction, she still couldn't help herself as she wrote him back, adding in more details than were necessary. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:40 PM To: Gerald Parkman I have to admit that it is hard for me to imagine that. Sex is a big part of my life and any relationship. Not because I think the act itself is important, but because I love it. Everything about it is wonderful, from the touch of a man's hands to his tongue between my legs, and vice versa. Not to mention the actual feeling of someone inside of me. You are an attractive, kind and seemingly gentle man. It is a shock to think you aren't receiving that kind of attention. Not that I am speaking badly about your wife, I am sure she is lovely. I just know that if I were her, I would be more than eager to be with you. She was a little nervous when she read back over that particular message. It wasn't just mildly flirty, it was racy. There were details, and even a statement about her own attraction that had suddenly reared itself within her. But she gathered her bravery and hit send, before heading into the kitchen for another glass. * * * When he read the email, Gerald's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Mouth slightly open, he read over the words at the end for a third time. "...I would be more than eager to be with you," he whispered, licking his lips. But it was the description above that had caused a stirring in his trousers. He could clearly see each act; touching her skin, being inside of her, tasting her...the last made him close his eyes and bite off a groan. His wife had let him lick her a few times, though never to orgasm and it had been a very long time. She had never seemed to enjoy it, and after a few years of marriage she didn't bother consenting to it at all. Even though he had been immensely turned on to perform oral sex on other partners before her. "..and vice versa," he said, and this time he did groan. He could just imagine those plump lips around him, stroking her tongue against the underside of his cock as he slid his fingers through her long, dark hair. It was an incredible visual, and he felt himself hardening until he was semi-erect. Swallowing hard, he didn't even bother to let his hesitation still his fingers. From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:44 PM To: Cynthia Weber That is quite a series of images you have put into my mind, Dear. You are making it quite difficult to behave myself, especially when you say you wouldn't mind being with me. I have to admit, I would be far from reluctant to find myself in bed with you. Of everything you have said, your reference to oral sex has flustered me the most. That is one thing my wife often refused to participate in. Though I have always very much enjoyed pleasuring a woman in this way, and I have often fantasized about being able to do so once again. Having the favor returned would be very appreciated, but not required. Normally I wouldn't speak to someone this way. But you are a beautiful young woman, among many other attributes that make you desirable. You may have taken me past the point of control. It didn't even take alcohol. * * * Cynthia nearly choked on her wine. It had been like flipping a switch, watching him go from zero to sixty in moments. Which was becoming all the more exciting for her, as she read over his desires and pictured him sliding his tongue between her folds. Scandalous thoughts, indeed... Part of her knew that she was asking for trouble, speaking to a married man this way. But the guilt was quickly getting lost in her increasing desire. They were just emails, after all. It wasn't like they were having an affair. She decided in that moment to put her hesitation out of her mind. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:50 PM To: Gerald Parkman You are putting some serious thoughts in my head as well, Gerald. Though the 'favor' would definitely be returned. I love giving oral sex. It is all about that shared pleasure, and as I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate it even more. There is nothing sexier than a man's reaction when I am sucking his cock. The fact that you are so enthusiastic about going down on a woman shows that you would be good at it. I would love to slide my fingers into your hair and grind my hips up as you slid your tongue over my clit. Just thinking about it is turning me on. - - - From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:56 PM To: Cynthia Weber That is so sexy. I am sure you taste like heaven, and the thought of you grinding yourself against my mouth is one of the most arousing things I have ever read. I would not be able to stop, wanting to bring you to climax again and again with my tongue. Shuddering in pleasure and screaming for me. I am sure you have the loveliest voice. What are you doing right now? - - - From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:00 PM To: Gerald Parkman Mm, that sounds nice. Almost as nice as what we would do next. I would love to suck you, teasing you with my tongue. Wrapping my lips around you and rolling your balls in my hand. Tasting your precome as you get closer to the edge. But when you were right there, tugging at my hair, telling me you were close, I would stop. My lips would move down to suck your balls, one at a time, stroking you with my finger tips. I am sitting in my living room, leaning back in my chair. I can only type with one hand because I am pinching my nipples, going from one to the other. They are so hard right now, and touching them and speaking to you is making me so wet. Are you hard, Gerald? * * * 'Hard' was an understatement. His cock had rapidly gone from semi-erect to steel pole, pressing insistently against his trousers until the discomfort had led him to release it from the constraints. He had his hand around it now, stroking slowly as he read over her words again and again. Not only was the graphic description of what would be the greatest blow job of his life driving him crazy. But she was touching herself, stroking those gorgeous breasts and pinching what he was sure would be perfect nipples. If only he could see that, watching her pleasuring herself in such an intimate way. And for him. His fist moved the foreskin up over the swollen head, feeling it stretch before he squeezed the tip and pulled back down. Letting out a soft groan, he forced himself to release his cock and reply. From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:03 PM To: Cynthia Weber Yes, I am very hard. So much so that I can't help but stroke myself as I read your emails. Imagining your lips wrapped around me is the sexiest image in the world. I can almost feel your tongue sliding around the head, and those pretty brown eyes looking up at me. If only it were my fingers on your nipples right now, or my mouth. I would love to suck on them as I slid my fingers into your tight, little quim. Slide your own finger inside of yourself...tell me how it feels. * * * Cynthia was lightly panting now, her eyes skimming over the words as she gave her nipple a rather hard and sudden pinch that made her moan. It was so filthy, talking this way. She had sent dirty text messages before, and even a couple of dirty pics to an ex in a few emails. But the deliberate descriptions they were giving to one another was rather new for her. It was unbelievably hot. Even the use of the word 'quim' turned her on, a phrase she had only heard since coming to England. It was unfamiliar, and something about it added to the whole experience. Licking her lips, she stood up and unzipped her pencil skirt. It slid to the ground, where she kicked it to the side and sat back down in her slightly open blouse, bra and panties. It made it that much easier to do as he asked, and she stroked her inner thighs for a few seconds before slipping a finger under the leg band of her underwear and up to the smooth lips of her cunt. Already they were slick with moisture, the lack of hair making it all the more obvious. It made her shiver, the finger teasing and probing as she read over his email a third time. For a quick moment, she let the tip circle her clit before plunging inside of her wet warm walls, making her whimper and her hips jerk forward. Removing the finger, it was still coated with her juices as she began to type once more. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:07 PM To: Gerald Parkman It feels wonderful. I am so wet and hot, I can already feel it dripping down onto my thighs. I am shaved smooth, so I could feel that wetness the second I put my hand in my panties, which were also soaked. You are having quite an effect on me. Your fingers are thicker than mine...I bet they would feel much better pressing into me. Especially with your tongue on my clit at the same time. You would drive me crazy, and I would love you to feel me cum that way. Then you would know how it would feel against your cock later on... - - - From: Gerald Parkman Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:09 PM To: Cynthia Weber That is so sexy, Cynthia. I can only imagine what you would feel like, sliding my cock into you. Letting my hands run all over your soft skin, stroking it, tasting your tongue as I kissed you. I would want to go slow, enjoying every moment of your lovely body. I wish I could hear you as you touch yourself. I keep imagining your voice, the way you might sound as you get close to coming. You must sound like an angel. A very naughty one, obviously. - - - From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:11 PM To: Gerald Parkman Maybe you should call and find out... * * * Gerald was staring at the phone number she had sent him for almost a full thirty seconds before he let out a breath. They had never spoken to one another on the phone before; there had never been a reason to. Their relationship had been just fine online, mostly a casual friendship with a purpose. It had never occurred to him that they might actually speak to one another. But this was something entirely different. It was one thing to write dirty emails, but another to actually be that personal, and to hear one another for real. It seemed like it might be crossing a line, and a dangerous one at that. Even as he thought this, however, he was reaching for the cordless phone propped on its charger beside the computer. His heart was racing as he punched in the numbers, hand shaking slightly as he put it to his ear and listened to the clipped rings. When she answered there was no mistaking that it was her. How many breathless American women would he have accidentally dialed in London? "Hello?" came the woman on the other line. He couldn't help but notice that she sounded quite nervous herself, a great deal of tension held within that single word. "Hello, Cynthia?" he asked, as though he were not already sure it was her. He had no idea what else to say, and it was difficult to think past his suddenly dry mouth and pounding heart. Cynthia was having similar problems, her breath a little faster than it had been seconds before. "Yes, it's me. I...um...how are you?" She cringed, feeling a wave of embarrassment. Had she really just asked him how he was? They had just been talking about fucking; she had admitted to touching herself! It seemed a little late for pleasantries. "Oh, I am...fine. Thank you," Gerald replied awkwardly. He had been right about one thing: she did have a lovely voice. It sounded young, perhaps even more so than her twenty-seven years. But it was smooth and he found her accent rather exciting. It was just something else that was new he could add to the mounting list. Little did he know that she was thinking the same thing. One of the benefits of moving to Britain had been the most shallow and stereotypical, in that she found the accents from the region incredibly sexy. Besides, his voice was rich and cultured, and exactly what she had expected somehow. His nervous but polite reply to her stupid question made her smile despite her burning cheeks. "How are you?" he asked with the same touch of out-of-place manners, breaking into her reverie. But she was getting a hold of herself now, fighting off the heavy fog of anxiety that had temporarily banished her ability to think. While she might not yet be in sex kitten mode, she was at least ready to move them past the clumsy small talk and back into the arousing conversation that had brought them this far. "Still as turned on as I was when I asked you to call," she replied, relieved to hear that her voice had taken on a seductive, breathy quality rather than girlish squeaking. It was progress, and the step forward seemed to have worked. She could hear the slight catch of his breath on the other line, followed by a few beats of silence before he spoke. When he did, she noticed his voice had deepened somewhat, become a little more gruff. "I am happy to hear that. What are you doing right now?" "I am laying back on my couch, almost entirely undressed. My hand is stroking my thighs, and I am thinking about taking off the rest of my clothes. It is really hot in here, right now." Gerald made a noise that was hard to describe, but it sounded to her somewhere between a murmur and a growl. "Take them off," he ordered quietly. The direct command made her shiver, and she found herself aroused by his control. "Yes, Sir," she said teasingly. Again there was that catching of breath, but she didn't waste any time examining it. Putting down the phone, she stood and shed her blouse, bra and panties. Naked now, she laid herself back down and took up the phone once more. "Back. What about you, what are you doing right now?" Cynthia asked eagerly. "I am sitting in my sitting room, dressed but with my cock out. I am stroking myself very lightly, imagining your fingers doing it for me." He said all this slowly, softly. But his increasing heartbeat belied his calm, as did the slight coloring that he was glad she couldn't see spreading up his neck. While he was enjoying the dirty talk a great deal, and the thought of her naked on her couch was emboldening, it was still an unfamiliar act for him. Just saying the words was mortifying, though the more aroused he became the less trouble he had with forming them. No matter what he felt about it, she seemed to appreciate the image. A soft moan escaped her lips, and back in her apartment Cynthia slid a finger between her folds and touched the tip to her clit. "That's so hot, Gerald," she whispered breathlessly. "I am touching myself now, rubbing my clit very gently and slowly. I can just picture your hands on me, teasing me. Then the feel of your tongue sliding into my pussy..." He gasped sharply as he imagined all she said. His brain was caught somewhere between the image of her touching herself for him and the way she would taste. While both were wonderful things to imagine, he wasn't sure which he found hotter. All he knew was that he suddenly wished he had two minds to fully appreciate both. "How does it feel?" he asked hoarsely, his hand tightening on his member and squeezing. She let out another soft moan, making his cock jump in response. "So good, but I want more," she whimpered, arching her hips as though he truly were there, teasing her. "Picture me between your legs. My tongue is flicking your clit, just barely enough to drive you wild but not enough to let you come. Now take your other hand and press a finger just barely inside of yourself, still teasing. Not quite pressing deep enough to give you relief..." Pen Pals Cynthia did this, letting out a mewling noise of frustration as she danced over the two places she needed pressure most. For the first time, Gerald let out a quiet groan. The desperation he could hear mounting in the woman on the other line was intoxicating. Could he really be the cause of that desire? "I wish you were here, doing this for real," she panted, arching her hips in response to a press of her finger to her throbbing nub. "Though I would want to be pleasuring you, as well. I would give anything to slide my lips over your cock while I sit on your face." "Oh God," Gerald groaned, the hand holding the phone clenching in response. "That would be amazing. I wouldn't be able to control myself, sucking on your sweet little clit as hard as I could, desperate to make you come." "And you would make me come. Then then moment I had I would slide down and sink down on your cock so I could ride you hard. Can you imagine me bouncing up and down on you?" He sucked in a breath, unknowingly moving his hand faster just as she picked up the pace of her rubbing. The two moved closer to the edge together, panting and moaning, the words throwing them both past the point of no return. "Yes, I can picture it. I can feel it...you feel so good, Cynthia. You're so tight, and wet. I could fuck you forever." "Fuck, Gerald, keep talking," she begged, feeling that heat building and the tension curling low in her abdomen. "I am so close...keep going." On the other side of the line she heard a small grunt as Gerald gritted his teeth and began to jack himself off in earnest, wanting to keep pace and come along with her. "I would want to feel you coming around my cock, but I wouldn't finish yet. I would need more of you, always more. So I would pull you off of me and order you onto your hands and knees. I would duck down to lick you a few more times, tasting that honey of yours before slamming back inside of you..." "Mm, yes...fuck my pussy," Cynthia sobbed, and Gerald nearly lost it right there but managed to barely hold on. "I would move harder and faster, slamming your whole body forward. Would you touch yourself for me while I fucked you?" "Yes," she whispered harshly, so he had to strain to hear her voice past their panting breath. "I want to feel your balls slapping against the back of my hand while I rub my clit for you." "Oh fuck," he grunted in response, right on the edge now. "That is so sexy...come for me, Cynthia." Cynthia whimpered in response, jerking her hips, grinding her palm against her straining clit as two fingers slammed in and out of her quivering walls. She was right there, so close she was almost sitting up in her tension, every muscle taut. Gerald was much the same, his hand a blur, the phone balanced in the crook of his neck against his chin as his other hand roughly tugged and fondled his balls. He wasn't going to last more than a few strokes, and he knew it. But not yet, he needed the sweet sound of her release or he would feel as though he had lost something precious... "Come, Cynthia!" he groaned, and there was a sound of desperation in his voice that shot straight to her cunt. "Now!" That was all she needed. With a cry that was much louder than she had intended, she fell back against the couch and arched her back as her climax crashed through her. Every second was white hot and exquisite, her body shaking under the force of it. Hearing her shout of pleasure threw Gerald over the edge, and he let out a loud groan as his cock jerked. Within seconds he had soaked front of his trousers and the bottom of his shirt. He grunted as the last of the waves of pleasure shuddered through him, listening to the angelic little whimpers as Cynthia came down. Soon there was nothing but panting on both ends of the line, neither speaking as they caught her breath. It was Cynthia who spoke first. "Holy shit," she whispered. Gerald laughed, closing his eyes as he grabbed some tissues off the coffee table and cleaned himself, then collapsed back against his armchair. "My sentiments exactly, Dear," he replied hoarsely, and heard Cynthia giggle a little shyly in response. There was no awkwardness as they sat there in the silence, enjoying the afterglow. It felt natural and satisfying, and Gerald felt better and younger than he had in years. While she was not nearly as starved for sex, Cynthia would later realize that just mutual masturbation with the older man had been more intense than fucking her last several boyfriends. But before long reality set back in, and Gerald cleared his throat. "That was lovely, but --" "I know," Cynthia interrupted with a smile. "I should get going myself." He let out a small sigh of relief, glad that she wasn't offended by his suggested departure. It wasn't that he wanted to end the call; far from it, he wanted to sit on the line all night, even in silence. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at peace. But his wife was going to be home soon, and he had to clean up more thoroughly; certainly, he needed to change his clothes. "This was fun," she told him, breaking into his thoughts. "Yes, I -- thank you, Cynthia. It was lovely." Smiling a little more widely, though he couldn't see her, she replied, "Ditto...goodbye, Gerald." The call cut off, leaving him listening to the hollow sound of am empty line. * * * Three days later, Gerald was getting nervous. He had not heard from Cynthia at all, and he was much too anxious to contact her himself. Was she regretting what they had done? Had she gotten all she wanted? Had their fragile friendship been shattered by a single night of distant pleasure? The thoughts plagued him as he checked his email that evening, the same hope he had felt rising within him for the last three days once more taking away his breath. Only this time, it was not filled with bitter disappointment. She had finally written him back. From: Cynthia Weber Sent: Saturday, April 15, 2012 3:30 PM To: Gerald Parkman Gerald, Sorry I haven't written, I was debating whether I should. However, I am afraid a small DIY project has opened up in my bedroom, and it is far too advanced for me to handle myself. I could sure use your...expertise. Do you think you could perhaps come by this week to take a look? I was thinking Wednesday night, around 7? I'll bring the wine. Cynthia