The Man
This was it. There was no turning back now. This would be Celeste's last great adventure before she turned 40. She should count this as an early birthday present, she thought, bemused. He was standing over her as she sat on the edge of the bed. He wore only a thin pair of silk briefs that stretched over his ridiculously tight ass and massive front bulge like a second skin. She was feeling a bit light-headed from the champagne, and her heart was beating decidedly faster now. She was feeling more and more powerless to call it all off, but why should she anyway? She knew what she was doing, and the sight of this glorious specimen of manhood made her feel alive with an overwhelming urge to feel his body in every way imaginable and unimaginable.
Bracing herself with a shot of the last bit of champagne, she resolved to take all the pleasure this man could give her. She untied her robe and let it fall off her shoulders, revealing her imperceptibly quivering, naked body. At thirty-nine, she was still an exquisite woman, and she knew it. She wouldn't be in this hotel room with a man fifteen years her junior who looked like a sculpted Adonis if she was anything less than perfect herself. And she was. Every inch of her lithe, toned figure was absolutely perfect. From her unblemished smooth skin to her beautiful, soft, grey eyes shrouded by silky dark hair, and from the graceful arch of her back and sublime curve of her hips and supple derriere to her wonderfully formed round breasts with their sharply erect nipples, she was a vision that would melt any man to the quick.
But for all her confidence and experience, she couldn't help feeling a bit like the frightened adolescent deer in the wolf's headlights. After all, she had been married for 14 years, and she was on the verge of having her way with a personal trainer from her health club she had only known personally for a few weeks. This was the kind of thing that one read about, but never experienced. She laughed to herself when she thought about how cliched it all was: The tired executive trapped in a loveless, passionless marriage escapes to a night of wanton debauchery with a young stud from the gym.
But he was no ordinary young stud. In fact he was definitely exceptional, by any standard. This god with the perfectly proportioned, chiseled body, rugged good looks and easy charm had practically swept her off her feet and stirred an animal desire that she had never felt for a man before. He exuded a vibrant sexual energy, and she wondered how many hapless, dullard husbands or boyfriends had lost their women to his bed, where they willingly submitted to becoming his plaything for a night. She had heard all the rumors about him, and they made her excited and a bit afraid. Afraid the way an inexperienced teen might be just before losing her innocence to an older, more worldly man. But she was the older woman! Why should she be nervous? Perhaps because he had already claimed at least six other women from the club as conquests, one of whom was a friend of hers. The whispers about his size, his stamina, his sheer power in bed and the things that he could do to you and make you feel had made him practically a legend at BodyWorks. The management knew about his philandering but didn't seem to mind as it probably accounted for a good number of their female clients.
Her story had started something like this. She had been watching him for about three months, just like every other red-blooded woman on site, when fortune brought her into the picture. Her friend Samantha asked her to lunch one day because she had something juicy to tell her. Sam asked her what she thought of Mick. She smiled and then Sam smiled back since she knew the answer. Celeste had heard that the two of them had something going on. Sam was unabashed about telling the whole sordid story. Apparently he had taken her to his apartment after her workout one night, where they proceeded to get extremely nasty. She outlined in graphic detail how they fucked for some three hours nonstop. Little did Celeste suspect what she would hear from her friend during the next fifteen minutes.
"How many times do you think he came?" Sam asked with an almost evil grin.
"Are you kidding me?" Celeste said as she rolled her eyes.
Sam paused for a moment and spoke deliberately. "Six. He fucking came six times."
"You're making that up. A man can't do that. The most my husband could ever manage was probably three in about two hours," Celeste exclaimed.
"Six times," she repeated. "We're not talking about your husband or my husband or any of those limp wrists from the office. He's a sexual monster, insatiable. That night with him is probably the closest thing to a religious experience I'll ever have. It was the best night of my life."
"You're serious. You're really serious. My god, six times? I don't think I cum six times in a week anymore. Is there anything else?" asked a bewildered Celeste.
"Like I said, it was the most incredible sex of my life. He was like an animal and so was I. We fucked for hours, and he never tired out. He had me in every way, and I couldn't get enough of him. I actually had to call in sick at work the next day because I was so worn out from having that jackhammer of his rammed into me a few thousand times. He's a fucking incredible superman."
"Jesus," Celeste whispered. At this moment, she realized she was getting a little wet just from listening to this incredible tale.
"Something animalistic came out in me. I would have done anything he asked, but he didn't have to. I was doing things that I've never even imagined doing before, and the more depraved I got, the more excited I got."
"Depraved? Like, how depraved???"