The excitement grew as the time of their meeting drew near. They have known each other for six months, exchanging e-mails and instant messages in that time. Initially, their relationship was based on a mutual interest in love and romance poetry, but as time evolved, something more developed. They began to have some real feelings for each other, although it was never discussed.
It was three weeks ago when Phillipe wrote Jennifer and informed her he was coming to New York City for a conference of professional software engineers. When she read those words, she felt her heart skip a beat and butterflies form in her stomach. What she read next made her smile and jump out of her seat in pure joy: He wanted to meet her at his hotel.
The three weeks went surprisingly quick, and the morning of his arrival came, she told her husband she had business in the city and would be gone for the entire day. She did not know when she would return.
"Maybe in the morning," were the last words she told her husband. He told her goodbye as she walked out the door and to her car. She sat in the car for a moment and wondered, wondered if Phillipe would truly like her.
It was these moments of doubts that made her insecure about meeting him. No matter how many words of encouragement he sent to her, she always not sure of herself. And now as she drove to his hotel to finally meet him, this man from France that has stimulated not only her mind but her body, her anxiety was starting.
The anxiety turned to excitement as the seconds ticked off until there meeting. He was on the elevator, the elevator that just arrived in the lobby. Her heart was pounding as the doors opened. She felt a little panicked as a man, his eyes and skin dark, his hair raven black with some gray, walked to her and smiled.
"Hello Jennifer," he said in his slight French accent. "I have waited a long time to do this," he added just as he put his arms around her and reached his lips to hers. The passion was instant and glorious. He wanted to take her back to his room and make love like they have discussed so many times. He knew, however, he must talk with her, to get to know his new love better. She broke the embrace and looked into his eyes.
"My God," was all she could say as she closed her eyes once more and kissed his full, soft lips. She felt something, something she had not felt in a long time. It started deep within, then moved to her groin. She felt it the instant he touched her. "My God," she whispered again through the kiss. She was feeling an orgasm.
He felt her become limp in his embrace and held onto her. He brushed away a tuft of hair from her eyes and looked deeply into them. He smiled as he saw something, something so wonderful: he saw not only a passion and desire, but love.
"I'm so sorry," she said as she began to regain control of herself. He just smiled and tried not to laugh and knew what she was feeling. If he was not so concerned over her well-being, he would have swooned as well.
"Let us go back to my room so we can talk and have something cool and refreshing to drink," he suggested, noticing Jennifer was nervous. She agreed and reached for his hand: it was warm to the touch.
Jennifer looked up at Phillipe as the elevator doors opened. She could do nothing but smile. As he lead her inside, she never took her eyes off of him. She was had a feeling for him, she had a lust for him. She wanted to watch his every move.
As the elevator climbed to his floor, Phillipe moved closer to her. He wanted to feel her heartbeat against his body. He wanted to feel her every breath and lusted for her body, he wanted to have her then.
"Darling," he said in his accented voice. "I need to kiss you," he said as he leaned into her. His lips were a few inches from hers. She reached out and met his lips. There was an electric sensation that flowed through their bodies as their tongues met.
"Pardon me," a strange voice announced as the doors opened. They had reached his floor and people were entering the elevator.
"I'm sorry," Phillipe offered as he looked at a man in his forties. "We couldn't wait," he slyly added as they left, his arm around her tightly. The man laughed as the doors closed.
"Where is your room?" she asked as they walked quickly down the hall.
"Right here," he said as they stopped in front of a door. He pulled out the key card and slipped it into the lock. With aloud click, the door was ready to open. Phillipe held the door for her and she walked it. As he walked in, she turned to him and smiled again. He looked deeply into her eyes as he closed the door.
She walked to him and hugged him tight. As he was leaning down to kiss her, the expression on Jennifer's face changed. No longer was it a look of anxiety, it was a look of pleasure and love. He was about to ask her a question, his mouth was agape, when she slowly slid down his legs and onto her knees. She kissed his manliness through his pants as she slipped past his zipper, causing him to stir.
He moaned softly as her moist lips caused his penis to feel the hot breath. Instinctively, he reached down to her hair and ran his fingers through it. She moaned as his fingers touched her hair, touched her scalp. She reached into his pants and pulled out his ever hardening cock. She smiled as she saw how much he liked her attention.
Phillipe reached a hand under Jennifer's chin and raised her to his lips. As she held onto his cock, he took her lips and pressed his against them. She pressed back and opened her mouth slightly. Their tongues met, their tongues danced. She began to stroke his cock as he moved his hands down her back and under her blouse. Jennifer moaned softly as Phillipe felt his way up her skin.
He reached her bra. He felt the fasteners and caused them to unhook. As she felt her breathing become unhindered, she moaned softly in his mouth. Phillipe broke the embrace and began to unbutton her blouse. He became frustrated when one would not cooperate.
"Do it," Jennifer whispered softly. He was not sure what she meant, but took his hands and ripped her bouse. Her 40D-sized breasts were exposed to him. He looked fondly on them. He saw her tattoo, the tattoo on her breast he so wanted to see. She looked at him blankly, her eyes not showing her emotions.
"God, yes," she moaned as he looked at her breasts. For so long she wanted him to see them, to feel them, to have them in his mouth. Now, as he stood there, breathless, she began to smile.
