This is a true story about the first time I met the most amazing man. After we met, we had a long term affair for almost two years, some of the happiest times of my life. Batman, as promised, this is for you.
The year I turned 30, I met the man I was going to marry. For various reasons I was desperate to get hitched and make babies. I chose badly. Fast forward ten years, two kids and a messy break up. I turned 40 feeling alone and unloved. I spent almost a year hiding from the world, rarely venturing out socially. Tough times. Luckily I had- I have- good friends who stood by me and reminded me that life is too short to wallow. One friend in particular, Betty, dragged me out a few times and encouraged me to rediscover my confidence and sense of humour. This story begins on one of those nights where we hit the town.
We had been out since about 6pm. What started as a fairly tame evening, quiet conversation and a few slowly sipped drinks, had gradually turned into a right old session. Too many drinks to count, loud laughter, banter with strangers. It was almost midnight, we fell out the door of the latest bar. I insisted, fairly drunkenly, that I was far too old to go to a late bar for dancing. So we compromised on a little basement wine bar that we know, where the staff are exceptional and show little regard for licencing hours.
We fell in the door and down the stairs, Bettys' laughter echoing around the dimly lit room. Our heels clattered on the wooden stairs, as we descended into the bar. Greeted warmly by the bar manager, he took our coats and led us to the back bar. We perched ourselves on bar stools, adjusted our skirts, and within seconds had a cold glass of bubbles served to us. The music was discreet, the lighting was subdued, and we attempted to curb our enthusiasm and high spirits so as not to disturb the other patrons. However within minutes we were once again in convulsions laughing at some silly comment or joke, heads close together we were oblivious to the fact that we were drawing attention to ourselves, in particular from a table of three besuited gents just behind us.
Betty, mid anecdote, gesticulated a little wildly with her left hand, and sent her champagne glass flying off the bar. Hand clapped to her mouth, she swung around on her stool, expecting to hear the tinkle of broken glass, but instead there was a round of applause from the gents behind us. Alcohol dulling my reflexes slightly, I turned my head, to see that one of the men had caught the glass in, I assume, mid-air. Betty, an incorrigible flirt, batted her eyelashes and dimpled a smile at him. "Oh, my hero" she quipped. His friends were all laughing, commenting on his 'cat like' reflexes and quick hands. As I swung my stool around to better see who we were interacting with, Betty started to join in the banter. She is happily married but can that girl flirt- Gold Medal Standard. She introduced us to the men, and they in turn, stood up and shook our hands. When it came to the man who had caught the glass, she asked what 'her hero' was called. He smiled and answered "Batman". As he spoke, he caught my eye, and in that moment, the world stood still.
The evening then took a fairly predictable turn. We were invited to join their company, champagne was ordered and consumed, conversation continued. However what wasn't predictable, at least to me, was how I was feeling. It's fair to say that my libido, asleep for many years, had suddenly woken up and was roaring like a lion at feeding time. Batman was a big bear of a man, broad of shoulder and large of hand, in an impeccably tailored suit, black, with a black shirt and tie underneath. Quirkily handsome, to me he exuded chemistry that I cannot even begin to describe. I couldn't quite catch my breath, I felt like I had crashed into a wall. My thoughts were jumbled and disjointed. God he was gorgeous.
I could only concentrate on one aspect of him at a time as I was experiencing extreme sensory overload, my sozzled brain simply couldn't take it all in. His big hands, and thick fingers, oh my. The size of his chest, broad and barrel like, under his shirt and jacket. His long muscular thighs, the right one pressed the length of my left leg as we shared a table. His smile and the promise of wickedness that it held. He deliberately ignored me, after our initial introduction, concentrating instead on chatting to Betty and his work colleagues. As it transpired they all worked in legal circles, and Batman showed himself to be an astute judge of character and a seasoned social manipulator. Within about ten minutes he had found some common ground between Betty and his two colleagues, and ensured that they were all busy interacting and joking before turning all his attention to me.
He shifted slightly in his seat, placed one arm along the back of my chair, and unapologetically swept his eyes over me from top to toe. I became aware of the fact that I was quite drunk, I had not touched up my make up in some time and I am sure my once perfectly arranged hair was looking like a birds nest. After my marriage break up my self-confidence was at an all-time low, so while I was basking in the not so subtle attention, I was also second guessing myself, could he really be interested in me? He leaned in to me, and spoke softly so that only I could hear him. "I am married. Happily married. I have never cheated on my wife. Until now. Let's get out of here."
Within minutes we were up the stairs and out the door, around the corner and checking in to a five star hotel. From the minute we stepped outside, his arm was tight around my waist, holding me close to his side. He didn't loosen his grip as he completed the registration process, pressed the button for the fourth floor on the elevator, and guided me inside. I expected him to lunge at me when the doors closed, but instead he surprised me. He almost pushed me away from him, removing the comfort of his arm and the body heat I had been relishing. Instead he again looked me up and down, nodded once, and said "Oh Fuck". He caught my eye, and the two of us dissolved into laughter, breaking the awkwardness and intensity of the moment. As the lift doors slid silently open, he took my hand in his and led me along the corridor to our room.
Once inside, he took my coat and bag, and left them on a chair just inside the door. He opened a bottle from the mini bar, poured me a drink and switched on soft music, adjusting the lights and closing the curtains. For a big man he was almost silent in his movements, and I found myself sitting on the sofa, watching him almost hypnotised by him. He finally came and sat beside me, clinked glasses with me and drank deeply.
My brain had started its merry dance of paranoia again- what was I doing in a hotel room with a stranger? Why was I wearing tights and not stockings? Did he have condoms? Would he regret this in the morning? Would I? He could probably see that I was starting to look a bit panicked, so he again took my hand in his. "Your bag and coat are by the door, you can leave at any time. I have left you some money if you need taxi fare. You don't have to do anything you are not comfortable with. I bought condoms back at the bar. Just to clarify again, yes I am married and no, I do not make a habit of fucking other women. But I really want to fuck you."
It was one of those moments that you know are life changing even when they are happening. I knew that I should walk away. I knew I couldn't. I looked at him, breathed deeply, and nodded, yes.
I'd like to say that our first kiss was worthy of a movie, with fireworks, crashing waves, orchestras playing. But it wasn't. It was raw and animalistic. Our glasses were dropped, our drinks spilled. Mouths open we didn't so much kiss as devour each other. Teeth clashing, tongues immediately fighting, biting lips, panting, open mouthed passion. My hands got as far as his shoulders, and remained there as his hands, those big hands, unceremoniously pushed up my skirt and pulled me into his lap.
He squeezed and caressed my thighs and ass through my tights, and growled as he tried to remove them while still kissing me deeply. "Fuck it" he said into my mouth and he roughly tore the crotch of my tights, pushing my knickers to one side and feeling my wetness. Within thirty seconds of our lips meeting, he had one thick finger pushed deep into my already soaking pussy, and his thumb was rubbing my swollen clit. Within seconds, I was undone, my pussy clenching around his finger, my head thrown back, as I orgasmed long and strong on his finger, on one long, drawn out exhale.
Giving me no time to recover, he withdrew his finger, removed my shoes and tights, pushed my dress up to my waist and pulled off my knickers. He recommenced stroking my pussy, while kissing my mouth and neck. I was almost embarrassed how wet I was, I could hear the noises my pussy made as he slowly moved his finger in and out, but as he pushed a second finger deep inside me and slowly rotated his fingers, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensation. It had been years since I had been horny, years since I had been well fucked, and something told me this was going to be the fucking of my life.
My hands started to roam over his shoulders, arms, and down his back. I reached his waist and pulled at his shirt. "Patience" he chided me, and when I persisted, he withdrew his fingers and slapped me on my pussy, just once. The noise was sharp and loud. The sensation was like none I have ever felt before. The shock and the sting, and also the deep, horny passion of it. I moaned, involuntarily, and he smiled at me. "Like that, do you?" he asked. Before I could respond, he stood up and brought me with him, propelling me to the bed and using his bulk to push me down into a horizontal position. He removed his jacket, shirt and tie, giving me my first view of his broad torso. I reached for him, desperate to touch his skin, but he again laughed, and lowered his mouth to my pussy.
