1 comments/ 12020 views/ 1 favorites The Way We Met By: MissFroggy As far back as I could remember, I had never been interested in having sex. Don't me wrong – I've always been VERY interested in sex itself, but the actual act of "having sex" with someone always left me unfulfilled. I'd had quite a few partners, but none of them had ever fully satisfied me the way I could satisfy myself. My lovers were mainly guys I knew at school who were only interested in cumming as fast as possible. Typically, they had little regard for my own orgasm and a few of the less considerate ones even ventured to blame my orgasm problem on me – never realizing how quickly (or how often) I could cum when left to my own devices. Because of that, I stayed single, only accepting dates to have the occasional fling whenever I wanted a break from my own masturbation. Some people probably thought I was a slut, but I just thought of myself as practical. After high school, I worked as a waitress in the bar of an expensive hotel. The job itself was kind of crappy, but the tips were outstanding due to the high volume of both rich tourists and business men coming through the hotel. It was while working at that hotel bar that I first met Simon. The moment I met him, there was an unmistakable spark between us and I was instantly attracted to him. He was intelligent without being arrogant, flirty without being smarmy, and just a genuinely charming person. He was in his early 30s, but we got along so well and had such a connection that our age difference was barely even noticeable. The way he ordered his drinks sounded so James Bond-ish, and his rich British accent lent him such an authoritative air. He spent the whole night chatting with me whenever I had the chance, and ogling me when he thought I wasn't looking. I have to admit, there were a few times I purposely let my skirt ride a little high, or my neck-line plunge a little low for him. Despite the fact that he was obviously tired from a long flight, he stayed in the bar until my shift was over. "You're not even going to walk me to the elevator?" he asked, flirtatiously as I waved goodbye to him. "You didn't ask," I said, trying to be equally flirtatious. "I'm asking." With that he stood up and I finally got a full view of his delicious body. He was very tall, had a very nice physique – neither too slim, nor too pudgy - and, sneaking a glance lower, I could see that he was quite interested in me. I decided right then and there that I was going to not only walk him to his elevator, but walk him to his room and tuck him into bed. It had been while since I'd been with anyone, and this handsome stranger had gotten me quite interested. I took his hand and led him to the elevator, chatting the whole time. It was such a treat to finally meet a man who was able to keep up with me in conversation and who seemed interested in more than just what I looked like riding his dick. "Just one thing," he said, right before we got to the elevator doors. "I want you to know that, while I would absolutely love for you to come up to my room with me right now, I don't want you to feel like I'm some creepy guy who picks up on young girls when I'm on business trips." "I didn't think that, and you don't have to worry about feeding me some line to get me into bed," I said, laughing a little. "I already decided to come upstairs with you on my own." "No, I really want you to understand," he persisted. "I've never met as lovely a lady as you, and I'd actually like very much to get to know you and see you as often as I can for the duration of my trip. If coming upstairs with me tonight will in any way interfere with that happening, I'd rather you didn't come up. I'd rather you just agree to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night and we'll see each other then." I was thoroughly intrigued now. He was willing to give up a definite sure thing in order to actually get to know me? I'd known so many men that would have said anything to get me into bed with them that I wasn't sure if I believed him or not. Part of me wanted so badly to go upstairs with him, but there was a much bigger part of me that was interested in calling that bluff. "Ok," I said a little defiantly. "Tomorrow night it is, I can swap shifts with a friend." He smiled in, what seemed like, relief. "That sounds great." We swapped phone numbers and I turned to head home. Right before I did, he turned me toward him and kissed me. I had never been kissed like that before. Kisses for me had always been kind of nice, but I had never felt it through my whole body the way romance stories or movies seemed to say. But this kiss was unlike any other I'd ever had. Shivers went up and down my spine, and my knees practically buckled. His whole body pressed firmly into mine as his arms wrapped tight around me, and I could feel his hard cock through his pants pressing against me. We reluctantly pulled away from each other and just smiled awe-struck at each other. I immediately wanted to recant what I said and hop onto the elevator with him, but he just told me he'd talk to me later and turned to walk away. Needless to say, the second I got home, my clothes were completely stripped off and I started to work my fingers into a frenzy. I ran upstairs to my bedroom, opened up my toy drawer, and got out my favorite dildo. In my mind, I had gone up to Simon's room and the two of us were clawing passionately all over each other. I worked the dildo into my pussy imagining it was his cock burying into me. I reveled in the feelings of being stretched out and filled up – wishing that his body was attached to the cock that was fucking me…wishing that his hands were grasping my hips and pulling me down harder on his cock… wishing his lips were on my breasts, nibbling and teasing my nipples… I started bucking my hips as I pushed the dildo in and out of me – working faster and faster with each stroke. And then the phone rang… typical. I thought about letting the answering machine pick it up, but then remembered that my friend told me she would call me to finalize some weekend plans. Thinking I would quickly ask her about swapping shifts at work with me, I put a hold on my ministrations and picked up the phone. "So, what does a lovely lady like you do once you get home from a long day at work?" asked a deliciously deep, manly voice. I definitely did not expect Simon to call so soon. "Oh, this and that," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "What are you up to?" "Well, after that kiss, I think you know what I'm up to." Right then, I heard the sound of a zipper being undone. Normally, I would have hung up on a guy who I just met pulling a stunt like this, but I was so attracted to him and the thought of him pumping his cock while I masturbated was one of the most erotic things I'd ever experienced. I slipped the dildo back into my pussy and imagined that the cock he had in his hand was being guided into me. "I'm sorry! Have I turned you off?" he said, sheepishly. "I just thought, that… err…" Snapping out of my reverie, I quelled his fears. "No, Simon, I was waiting for you to tell me what to do with this dildo in my pussy." He moaned slightly at that and then we guided each other through a set of orgasms that left us both speechless. We were spent after about an hour of our "talk", and changed our plans from "dinner" to "lunch with an extended dessert". I was amazed at how bold I had been – usually preferring to keep my masturbation and toy collection a secret from the men I sleep with, but it just felt so natural with Simon. He didn't treat me like I was a sex-crazed pervert for enjoying myself the way I do, nor for participating in the phone sex we just had. And, as I fell asleep, I realized how happy I was that I met someone that I felt comfortable enough with to share that part of myself. The time finally arrived for our lunch date, and the two of us met at a very lovely restaurant. I was, again, taken by his good looks and charm, but what really struck me was that our conversation didn't at all seem to be strained or forced in any way. I wasn't even embarrassed at all about seeing him face-to-face after he heard me cumming over the phone the night before. Even though we were both definitely looking forward to the adventure that awaited us, we were genuinely interested in each other enough that sex wasn't the only motivating factor for our date. I had never met a man who held my interest much beyond his erection, so the experience was definitely a new one for me. After a nice, leisurely lunch and a walk through the park, we eventually made our way back to the hotel – this time making it past the elevator and up to his suite. By the time the door shut, we were practically devouring each other while fumbling with zippers, buttons and shoes. Taking off my bra while kissing me, he guided my hand down to his cock. This was a bit of a disappointing turn for me – as is typical, the guys I'm with always look at me in regards to what I can do to them and rarely what they can do either to me or with me. I had somehow let my attraction and fantasy about Simon lead me to expect that sex with him would be different, that maybe I would finally be as satisfied as much as the man I satisfy. I resigned myself to the situation and proceeded to start stroking him. I was still very turned on, but at the point where I was pretty sure the only orgasm I would be having would be with my dildo as I re-enacted this scene in my imagination. As usual. His cock was warm and velvety to touch, and I loved the way it felt in my hand. It was a very good size – slightly larger than what I've normally seen, but nowhere near being monstrous or scary. Through my stroking I noticed that it was already starting to dribble out some pre-cum. Feeling a little adventurous, I bent down and pumped a large drop of it onto my tongue. I stood up so he could get a good look of me swallowing it, but right then, he planted a long, passionate kissed and sucked his own pre-cum off of my tongue. I stared at him in surprise, but he just winked at me and then continued kissing. Never before had I met a man interested in kissing me after a blow-job, let alone taking his own cum (or pre-cum, in this case) into his mouth. Quite honestly, it was always something that turned me on – one of my biggest fantasies being to have a man lick his own cum out of my pussy. I had always resigned myself to thinking of it as a "fantasy." From that kiss, I started to change my ideas of what was in store for me. As we kissed, he pushed me gently onto the bed and began kissing a trail from my neck to my thighs, making extra sure that he paid lots of attention to all of the attractions along the way. After a minute or two, he eased a finger into my pussy, gently exploring me as his tongue made its way to my clit. I began feeling things within myself that I'd never felt with anyone before and a few whimpers and moans escaped my lips. As I got more turned on, I continued to stroke his cock and urged him into a very relaxed 69. Not quite knowing Simon's staying power (because I didn't want him cumming just yet), I began a gentle blowjob. I slowly ran my tongue around his shaft, and then pulled back his foreskin to get at his bulbous head. I let his cock sink a few inches into my mouth, but I made sure not to deep throat him just yet. The whole time, he continued lapping and nibbling at my clit while he fingered my pussy. Occasionally, I would pump a drop or two of his pre-cum onto my belly, and each and every time, he would lick it off making sure that none was left. After several minutes of this, I was getting close to cumming. "Your turn," he suddenly said. I was a bit confused at first, but then he moved up on top of me and kissed me deeply, tonguing a large dollop of my own pussy juices into my mouth. I sucked it off his tongue and swallowed it down. He smiled at me in approval and then poised his cock at my entrance. I lifted my hips to meet him and with a long, graceful motion, he plunged his cock into me. For the first time in my entire life, I began cumming on the first stroke. I felt my pussy walls clamping down on my lover's cock as an orgasm washed over me. The feeling of his thick member sliding in and out of me as I came was the hottest feeling I'd ever had in my life. I grasped his ass and began pulling him deeper into me as I arched my back up to meet his thrusts. As my orgasm subsided, he lifted me off the bed and rolled me on top of him, making sure to pull my hips down to plunge his cock as deep into me as he could get. I could feel him bottoming out inside me, filling me completely with his dick. With a swift motion, he tilted his hips up to bump his knob against my g-spot and then pushed his thumb between us to start rubbing my clit. In a daze, I began pumping myself against him, feeling his cock bumping and scraping against my g-spot with each thrust. He sat up and began sucking and nibbling on my nipples, the whole time keeping his thumb working my clit and his hips tilted into my pussy. I could feel how slick I was as his cock worked in an out of me and was so turned on at how well his cock fit into me – stretching my cunt just perfectly. I increased the tempo of my thrusts and began working his cock harder inside me. He met me thrust for thrust, pushing up into me as I thrust myself down. My breathing was coming out in ragged gasps as I felt him rocking me toward another climax. I was amazed enough at his ability to get me to cum once, but to work me up to a second one was almost too good to be true. Simon began moaning under me and picked up the speed in working my clit with his thumb. "I'm almost there," he said, breathlessly. "Cum with me, Molly." With that, he pushed up into me as hard and deep as he could go and began unloading his balls into my pussy. That was all it took. Within seconds I was moaning loudly as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through my body. My pussy clamped down tight, trapping him inside me, as his cock let loose pump after pump of semen into me. I could feel each jerk of his cock as my pussy continued milking him, setting me off even more as I pictured rope after sticky rope of cum shooting out of his dick and inside me. With one final thrust, I collapsed on top of him, spent and satisfied in a way I had never been before. He wrapped his arms around me leaving his cock still nestled deep inside me and kissed me deeply. "That was the best fuck I have ever had in my entire life, Simon," I said, still panting. "Same here," he grinned. "But that was only the beginning." To be continued…. The Way We Met My Darling, It has been three days now since I laid with you in my arms. I keep thinking about your passion, trembling as we shared a soul kiss, Chantal nuzzling your bottom. I could occasionally feel her tongue grazing the helmut of my erection as she sought to please you. It seems that I am always priapic when we make love to you. Chantal feels the same way. She looks forward just as I do to those times when your husband is away...not often enough! I told you some time ago that I would tell you how Chantal and I met...I think that time has come. My first wife, Marie, was with me for fifteen years. We truly were soul mates. We did everything together and never tired of each others company. She was a wonderful mother, a loving friend, a passionate lover. She was always there for me. Nothing was ever so pressing that she couldn't stop to listen to a problem or giggle at a joke. There was never anything that I asked of her that she refused me. She was so accommodating that I had to be careful not to overload her because she consistently took on too much. It was a bit of a shock when the doctors told me she had cancer but I recovered quickly. We had always overcome whatever obstacles we ran into and this was no different. We would fight this thing together and as always we would win. Even when she finally had to be admitted to the hospital I wasn't too discouraged. I knew that there had to be a few bumps in the road to recovery. This was just one and probably not the last. I went to the hospital every day with flowers, candy, fruit and most importantly a perennial optimism because I could sense that she wasn't as sure as I was that we had this monster under control. I never wavered in my belief that Marie would recover; after all I needed her! She knew that! Often when I went the same young nurse was in her room, sometimes in uniform, sometimes in street clothes. I asked Marie who she was and was told that her name was Chantal. She had spent several weeks of her training on Marie's ward and had been mentored by my wife. She was always discrete, leaving after a quick hello and a smile. I could see that Marie had lost a lot of weight. We had to expect that, it was a tough battle. No problem though; when she was released my cooking would fatten her up. Reality only hit the day before she died. Chantal had lingered a little longer, fluffing up her pillows, making small talk with me. When Chantal left, I was holding Marie's hand. She looked me in the eye and said "She would be good for you." And I knew. I dropped my head to the pillow and the tears started. I only cried for a minute, Marie's cheek against my hair. When finally I had overcome my slip and raised my head she was asleep. I stayed with her for another hour watching her pained breathing, waiting for some sign that she would waken again. At last I rose and kissed her on the forehead. I washed my face. With all the dignity I could muster I straightened up threw my shoulders back and walked with a confident stride to the elevators. As the doors opened I looked over to the nurse's station. Chantal stood with one hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes and the most pained expression of pity on her face. I tore my glance away and stepped onto the elevator just as the doors closed. Fortunately I was alone. I pressed the stop button and collapsed to the floor. The tears flowed; my body was wracked by great heaving sobs. I cried like a baby. Three days later at the funeral home Chantal approached me with tears in her eyes. She said "I loved her too" then turned and left. In the following weeks Chantal came over almost every day, bringing a casserole or a pie. She would help the boys with their homework, do laundry, iron shirts. She never asked my permission or sought my approval. She just took it for granted that she was doing what she was supposed to be doing. And as I started to come out of my lethargy I realized that she was. Three months later Chantal moved in. That winter we were married. I never felt guilt towards Marie. Some how I knew that this was all as it should be. I missed her terribly but Chantal understood and shared my grief. She told me that she often sensed Marie's presence. When we made love she said that she could feel Marie sometimes holding her hand and smiling at her Life with Chantal was neither more nor less than what it had been with Marie...it was different. It had its own passion, its own dignity and always it celebrated the wonder of Marie. Shakespeare in his play Othello at one point had the hero, speaking of his love for Desdemona, declaim, "She loved me for the troubles I had suffered and I her because she did pity them" I think I fell in love with Chantal at the nurse's station when I saw that look of profound compassion on her face. I still love her and that is exactly the way I have come to feel about you. Jake