I'm going to be visiting Jamie's city and decide to see if she's interested in a F2F.
Email: Hello, Jamie. I'm going to be calling on an account in your direction next Monday and I'll be arriving Sunday afternoon. Interested in a F2F? Interested in more? ;-) Lustily, Roy
Email: Hi Roy. I think that will work (F2F, how much more I don't know – I'll need to think hard about it. Very Hard. ;-)) Could you give me a call when you get there? Maybe lustily; maybe not. Mine to know and yours to find out, your adoring "master."
Hmm… Master?
Not a bad trip. Regular breaks and brief walks in refreshing air. Stopped at a nice little mom and pop sub shop on the way. Noticed the ample supply of Salami in the fridge. The meaning of "master" floats hazily over my consciousness.
My room has a river view. This is a working river. I've enjoyed the scenic streams, but there's a joy in the view of working rivers with their tugs and barges. (Maybe it's that working=humping=fucking as the meanings shift from word to word. Maybe it's the "tug" Everything is three degrees from fucking.) I hang up my suit coat. Not sure which tie I'll wear tomorrow, but maybe she'll help me select it. Time to call.
"Hi Jamie. This is Roy. I'm at the motel and settled in enough. Still okay for you to join me?"
"Yeah, I will be there soon. Just have to shower first. I'll be dressed in a suit and tie. You must always remember to never suggest by word or deed that I am anything but a guy. Dress nice, do as you're told; and I promise you will never forget this evening."
Shower. That's a good idea. I take off my traveling clothes and feel the last bit of tension wash of in the warm stream. I soap up my hands and stroke my cock. I ease a finger behind into my asshole and think of bringing myself to orgasm. Then I reflect that maybe I'll wait till I'm with you. I rinse off my cock, bend over to feel the shower on my ass, rise up and do a slowly pirouette rinsing off my whole body. Turning off the water, I step out and dry off.
"Well I guess I get double duty out of this suit." Basic blue suit, beige silk shirt, diagonally striped tie in copper, silver and blue.
I sit on a chair and look out the window at the river traffic. I continue to gaze at the river as the boats moor and the train lights start to show on the tracks as evening approaches. A sort of lost in the world peacefulness that makes me lose track of time.
A bit startled at your knock on the door, I come to myself and hurry to open it. You're wearing a Camel Hair Suit, with a cream colored silk shirt. The burgundy tie partially obscured the fluid movement of your breasts, unencumbered by a bra. Still, one had to be close to discern their shapeliness, and appreciate the motion. You reached out your hand
"Mr. Kay?"
"At your service, Jamie."
I reach to shake your hand.
You grip my hand, then raise it to your lips, kissing gently, then liking the tips
"Soft. Soft hands and fingers. Yes."
Then you guide my fingertips beneath the tie over your collarbone. Keeping your expression even and your eyes fixed on mine, you betray your sensually only by the depth of your breath. A warm smile crosses your face as you recognize that my interest exceeds even yours.
Taking my hand down you kiss my palm. "Come on now." You lead me out of the room to your car.
I'm a bit surprised. "Uh, where are we going?"
"Just trust me."
When we reach your car, I begin to reach for the door handle. But you are ahead of me. With a small bow and turn of your hand you direct me to enter, then guide the seat belt into the lock.
"My captive," you smile half predatorily; then kiss me on surprised parted lips, thrusting your tongue into my mouth. That kiss, that smile, that stare sends a wave helplessness through my chest and down into my thighs, tripping an involuntary twitch in my cock near the side of my leg. This does not evade your notice. You reach into my pants and pull my cock up front and center.
"I intend to torment you, not torture you. I believe that is a comfortable position – for now anyway. Hmm. Nice tie, but not for tonight." Reaching into your breast pocket, you draw out a long powder blue scarf with a slight navy colored wave pattern. You replace my tie with the folded scarf and tuck it beneath my jacket.
We drive to a bar near the lake.
"They serve twenty kinds of fish here, all of 'em Perch."
Quizzical looks great us by the men and women inside. The men are
not quite
rough; the women
are not quite
trashy; but they all seem manifestly straight. Tolerant of strangers, but rather wary of the difference. They keep an eye on us throughout the evening. I am cautious.
You, however, appear to have not the slightest intention of showing anything less than capricious defiance. You pull out my chair and seat me. Standing, you take my red napkin and stretch it out vaguely like a toreador, and place it on my lap. Assured that you have drawn attention, you slip your hand underneath and stroke my cock.
I stiffen and avoid their eyes.
"Look intently at the menu, Roy"
I tell myself.
Standing again, you gaze around and spread your hands in challenge. "Service here, please."
A bartender nods a waitress over to our table. Ten paces behind her, he starts to clean a nearby empty table to the point of a high gloss, almost knocking the ketchup off, in the course of focussing his attention on us.
"One order grilled hickory bar-be-que. One order blackened. Two drafts." you order, then whisper something into the waitress' ear.
The waitress takes the order to the kitchen and returns with our drafts. Ten minutes later she returns with our dinner. "Uh, which of you gets what?" she asks.
"We'll share." you say, smiling at me with predation "We share everything."
She puts the plates down on the table and backs off, shaking her head.
"These are both good. Try the Bar-B-Que first." you suggest, cutting off a piece with your fork and serving it to me. I take the bite off the fork. Interesting. Not a strong flavor, but smoky, well balance with the fish. "This is a nice first course, the next is a bit spicier." You cut half of it and put in on your plate with the other course. We converse a little about your studies, and my business, while eating out fish and fries.
"Next course. It really isn't that spicy.," you smirk. You pop some fries in your mouth. Cutting half and putting it on my plate you take a big bite of yours, then cut a similar size for me. Watching your face and you reactions, I'm assured of your words. I take a likewise big bite and go into shock. My face gets red from the heat.
"Huh?," I gasp. Just then, I notice that your fries came with sour cream. I figure out that that's how you managed to cut the spice. Meanwhile, everyone around is snickering as I sweat.
"You bitc…"
"Your promise, Roy!"
I bite the word. "Nuts!"
Keying in triumphantly, you reach under my napkin at the top of my legs and smile.