L'affair Canada

I came to Canada not to meet her, but to dig up information on a case. She just happened to live in the same city.

I finished early with the work and called her. I had her number from our chats online and never thought of using it while I was here. I did not believe I would have enough time to meet. However, it was 3 in the afternoon, all the paperwork was finished and uploaded to the home office, and I wanted to hear her voice.

And what a voice. It about melted me; her 'Hello' caused my knees to buckle. I was at a loss for words, her voice intimidated me so. Thankfully, she sensed I was having difficulty, she asked for a dinner meeting. She suggested a restaurant, fortunately, it was in my hotel.

I was nervous as I walked from my room to the elevator. I've stared down guns, I've jumped into fights without a weapon, yet this woman scared me. I do not know whether it was that, online, she had a confidence about her that I had never seen before, or it was her picture - her eyes were so sensual, so lovely.

The restaurant was bustling; I could barely hear myself over the din when the hostess asked if I had a reservation. I was about to tell her I was waiting for someone when I saw her. She was looking at the menu, her eyes not seeing me. I quickly thanked her and moved closer to my date.

"Hello, handsome," she said, her voice angelic. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe, how to stand straight, how to talk. It took all my will do not fall on my face while still walking to her table.

"Please, sit," she added as I approached. I needed a place to rest; I felt as if I walked a mile to get to her.

"Thank you," was my feeble answer. I slid into the chair across from her, smiled as I tried not to look her directly in her eyes. I knew if I did, I would have melted on the spot.

"You look very handsome." Her voice, less audible than a whisper, still caused my breath to shorten. There was something about her that caused my senses to react; to react in lust. I was beginning to feel like a teenager.

This was going to be a long dinner.

Dinner was a difficult affair. I was constantly at a lost for words whenever, and each time, I looked into her eyes. There was something behind those soul windows that had me very distracted. I would have an idea of something to ask, something to answer, and once I looked in her direction, I lost my train of thought. I was thankful when our server returned with the dessert menu. It would help divert her eyes.

"What looks good to you?" she asked without looking up. I thanked God silently; it allowed me to answer.

"Something chocolaty," I said, looking at her face, seeing the shape. It was round and tasty. Her hair was dark and haunting, something I love. Her eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses, were almond shaped, exotic and sensual.

"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking." She looked up from her menu and caught me looking. For a moment, I was lost in her eyes, again, unable to talk, to think. She gave me a mischievous smile and returned to the menu. "Dark chocolate mousse," she whispered.

We ordered dessert and tried to make small talk. I learned that I could make feeble attempts at asking questions, but for the most part, she did the asking.

I told her my occupation: private investigator. The reason I was in Canada was for a case: A divorce case that had gotten ugly. She asked if I was married: she knew the answer but wanted me to tell her in person.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes cast downward, when I told her I was widowed. I had explained over the internet how my wife had perished, how she was taken far too early, leaving our kids and I alone. She reached out and grabbed my hand.

I felt an electric shock course through my body as she held it tight. My breathing became irregular, my eyes became out of focus. For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out. It was the return of the waitress with our desserts that brought me back.

Quickly, and I do mean fast, we finished our sweets. It was as if we both knew something better lay ahead. I made some passing glances up, trying to look at her face, but trying not to let her see me. Each time I did, she made a smile; she knew I was looking.

"Do you like what you see?" I thought I was hearing something. She repeated the question.

"If you mean 'Do I like seeing you?'. Then yes, yes I do." My answer was truthful. I did like her eyes; the roundness of her face; the way her body curved. I wanted to tell her more: I wanted to tell her that I liked her body, her belly, her ass. I wanted to tell her I have had a crush on her from the very start: from the first time, I saw her picture.

My short answer seemed to have flustered her. She tried to smile mischievously, but it turned into a teenager's grin. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She nervously looked at me, the earlier confidence gone. She looked away and smiled when the waitress returned with our chocolate.

Dessert was an interesting time. I tried to look at her, into her eyes, but each time I did, she would look down at her chocolate. I thought, for a moment, I had upset her. But she reached over and touched my hand, grabbing it.

"Thank you for meeting me," she said her grip on my hand lessening. "I've wanted to meet you, talk with you, and see if you were as handsome as you are in pictures."

I was taken aback. Never has someone so lovely, so erotic, so exotic, said such nice words. For a moment, I felt like I was a teenager again: throat tightened, face felt red and hot, sight went black.

"Thank you," I finally mumbled when my senses returned. I was greeted with another smile, deep and warm.

"It's the truth." She took a final bite of her dessert, sipped some coffee, and took my hand. She looked deeply in my eyes.

"Could we go back to your suite? I want to talk with you more." Her words were barely audible over the regained din of the restaurant, but I heard them clearly. It took me a few moments for it to register, for me to think of an answer.

"Sure," I squeaked out. She squeezed my hand tightly and smiled. She gave me a wink.

I finished my dessert quickly.

I was nervous as we left the elevator and approached my suite. I had the card key out, ready to slip it in. I was unsure why she wanted to talk more: I thought she knew everything about me. We had several late night and long discussions. She was very inquisitive, wanting to know what I did, how I liked it, etc. She even knows I was a widower, something I tried to keep from the internet.

"Wow, this is a great room," she gasped as I opened the door. She looked around, commented more on the fact that I had my laptop and camera set up, asking if I had planned to take her pictures. Before I could answer, she laughed deeply and collapsed on the couch.

"We can discuss that later," she added, a wicked tone in her words.

"Oh my," I whispered, mostly to myself. "Would you like coffee?" I grabbed the pot, ready to pour water.

"No, thank you," she answered, her eyes on the mini-fridge. "Do you have anything cold?"

I placed the pot back and leaned over to the refrigerator. "I have Pepsi, water, and Dr. Pepper."

"Water would be fine." There was a twinkle in her eye as I handed her the plastic bottle. For a long moment, neither one of us moved, our eyes locked on each other.

"Thank you," she whispered, breaking the silence. I welcomed her, softly, my voice almost cracking. We sat - her on the couch, me in the chair - both staring blankly at each other. I didn't know what to say, what to ask.

"Have you done any writing lately?" It was a simple question, one that I could answer rather quickly and easily. And when I told her I had been writing, she asked if I had samples available.

She stood and walked to the laptop. I turned it on to show her.

"Wow, that's nice," she told me after reading one of the short shorts, a story about a boy and his stuffed animal. "Is this one going to be published?"

"Once it's polished, I'll send it to a magazine." I smiled, knowing that I wasn't lying. This story was going to be sent to a children's magazine.

"Excellent, I hope it gets published." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "That's for luck."

She must have seen me blush, because she chuckled; I could feel my face turn redder. She touched my shoulder gently, tenderly. I sighed deeply, heavily. She excited me.

"Can I ask you something?" She leaned closer to my ear, her hot breath falling over my neck. I remember my eyes wanting to close, my body wanting to enjoy her lips, her body being close to mine. My breathing was becoming labored as I anticipated her question.

"Yes," stumbled out of my lips.

"Do you find me sexually attractive?"

For a moment, I was stunned. What kind of question was that? Here was a very lovely, very sensual, very sexy woman that had me turning more shades of red, had me sweating, had taken my breath, and she asks this question. I removed my glasses, wipe my eyes, and thought deeply. I wanted to tell her she was breathtaking. I wanted to tell her she was hot. I wanted to tell her I wanted her, in the worst way. I wanted to tell her many things. I placed my glasses on the desk, next to the laptop.

"Need you ask me that," I whispered as I took her face in my hand and leaned in. She understood my actions and closed her eyes. Our lips met, and hers were wet and hot. Our tongues met, our tongues danced. I took her closer into my arms. Her breasts crushed onto my chest, my heart skipping a beat.

"I guess you do," she whispered as we broke our embrace. "Come here," she added as she stood and took my hand, leading me to the bedroom.

My heart raced faster, my knees became weak when we entered. She sat my on the edge of the bed, leaned over and kissed me. She stood still and silent for a moment, though her eyes never left mine. Her mischievous smile returned. She, again, leaned in and kissed my lips, her hands holding my cheeks.

She pushed herself away from me, her smile growing larger. Her body was short and round, her bust full. She had a belly large and round, something that will always get me going. Her cheeks were full, both on her face and on ass.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I don't do this with everyone, but there's something about you. Something that makes me, well." Her voice tailed off, her head turned. She was in deep thought. Then with a heavy sigh, she turned to me, her hands on her blouse's buttons.

I stared at her; my eyes must have looked blank. My senses were over-run with ecstasy. For a long time, she has intrigued me. Never allowing me to know her fully, she's never sent me pictures of her entire body, only of her lovely and beautiful face. She's told me about her self: her height, her bra size, her weight, her body type. But she's never shown it to me. And now, here she was, unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, teasing me.

I couldn't help but breath heavily. My heart was pounding: how she didn't hear it I'll never understand. I felt as if I was shaking.

"I hope you don't feel any less of me," she said as her top fell to the floor. I looked into her eyes, trying to avoid seeing her bra. It didn't work, I had to look down. I inhaled greatly as I saw her black lace lingerie fight heavily - and losing - against her breasts, the cleavage was strikingly wonderful.

"There is nothing you can do that will make me feel any less of you," I whispered. I was amazed I could speak at all. Her smiled broadened as she, again, leaned in to kiss me. This time, she slightly sucked on my bottom lip before standing straight.

She stood in front of me, her hands playfully rubbing her stomach. She knew I loved large bellies, she knew this teased me. Her smile was still broad as her fingers worked their way around to the back, to her skirt's zipper.

Teasingly, again, she turned around, letting me have a view of her large bottom. This time she didn't waste time: she quickly unzipped and let the skirt fall to the floor. She wiggled her bottom and chuckled.

"Like my ass?" she kidded. I didn't need to answer: she knew already. She looked over her shoulder and winked at me. A mischievous smile came to her face. She inhaled deeply and turned quickly, showing me her belly.

I gasped, and it didn't unnerve her. It was as if she anticipated my action. She placed her hands on her stomach and rubbed, causing me to further lose my breath. My eyes widened, my hands began to sweat. I could feel myself get warmer. She knew what she was doing.

She walked closer to me, put her hands on both sides of my face, and kissed my lips. I reached out for her, trying to touch her hips, but she stepped back.

"Not just yet," she kidded, wagging her finger. Her smile was warm, her smile was friendly, and not the mischievous one she's always shown me. She leaned back and kissed my cheek.

Her hands slipped behind and touched her bra hooks. She stopped and thought for a moment before unhooking. Instantly, her bra, free from the straining against her large bust, fell forward. She caught it, holding it close to her body. Teasingly, she allowed the straps to fall onto her elbows. She winked at me and turned. She let the bra fall to the floor.

My heart was racing, my breath was more labored. I was sweating. She placed her hands over her breasts before turning back to me. I about passed out from excitement. Her hands barely covered her areola, the flesh of her breasts hung around. I stared wide-eyed, excited to see such a lovely visage. Still holding her breasts, she leaned over and kissed me.

I wanted to move her hands away, I wanted to kiss, to suck, her nipples. She smiled a knowing smile at me as she turned away. She showed me her ample ass again.

Her hands dropped to her pantywaist. She placed her thumbs under and slowly pushed down. I inhaled deeply as I saw the naked, white flesh of her ass appear. I fought the urge to fall to my knees, to grab her hips, to pull her close, to tongue her skin.

She let her panties fall to the floor. She stepped out of them, her hands on her side. Again, I wanted to fall to the floor and worship her ass. It was large, it was beautiful. She knew how I felt about large asses. She bent over then slowly rose, teasing me further. She was going to drive me insane.

"Do you like what you see?"

I felt like telling her that the question didn't need to be answered, all she needed to do was turn around and look at me. My pants were tight, my breath was labored. I could tell me face was red, and I was sweating. She was a major turn on. Yes, I did like what I saw.

"Oh Hell, Yes," I said.

"Good," she answered. She playfully spanked her own ass and sighed. "Then get ready."

She didn't take her time, she spun around quickly. In a hot, white flash of skin, I saw her in all her glory, in all her beauty. Her breasts were large, they were breathtaking. Her areolas were large, calling out to me to be sucked. Her belly, white and fleshy, had me wanting to rub and lick. Her thighs were creamy. She was the prime example of how hot big beautiful women are to me.

She pushed me back onto the bed and smiled as she climbed on top of me. "You're overdressed," she whispered as she reached and grabbed my belt.

"You think so?" I retorted. She giggled.

"Yes," was her answer as she spun the belt off my pants and threw them to the floor. She worked my zipper and button. She stood and pulled off my pants quickly.

"My," she said softly as she leaned down and kissed my hardness through my boxer-briefs.

Her attention made my stomach flip with excitement. I never anticipated her doing this, never to show me attention. I fell back on the bed and smiled, my heart raced and my mouth dried when she pulled off my underwear. She flung it onto the pile of her clothing. She slowly moved back onto my body, her breasts dragging against my flesh.

"I can see you love this," she whispered. She kissed my thighs, her hands on my stomach. I looked at her, her eyes closed, her attention squarely on me. I fell back onto the bed once her mouth - wet, hot, and sexy - touched my penis. I did everything to keep myself from screaming out my excitement.

"Oh sweetheart," I moaned. Those were the only words I could think, only words that came to my lips.

I sat as her mouth slowly worked its way down my shaft. I quickly removed the rest of my clothing, tossing them aside, not knowing where they landed.

"Oh, God," I cried out when her lips met my root. Slowly, she went up my cock, sucking hard as she traveled. I wanted to put my hands on her head, directing her, but I felt as if she knew what she was doing. She went back down, slowly. She did this a couple of times.

"I thought you'd like this," she said, stopping, but grabbing my hardness. She stroked me as she looked into my eyes.

For a moment, I thought of taking her, throwing her on the bed, and having my way with her. But those thoughts passed quickly: she moved on top of my cock and lowered herself.

She moaned heavily as my cock entered. Her eyes closed, her lips tightly squeezed. She began to ride me, slowly at first. I placed my hands on her hips. She placed her hands on my chest, her fingers running through my chest hair.

I was dumbfounded, shocked beyond belief. In all these months of communicating, we NEVER broached the topic of sex, not in general nor with each other. I wasn't going to stop this, I was just going to enjoy and see how much further we would take it. If anything, a relationship came of this that would be better.

I don't know for how long she was on top. I was enjoying it far too much to care about time. When I raised myself up and took a nipple into my mouth, she moaned loudly. When I arched my back, raising her up, she fell forward and dug her nails into my chest. When she was about to orgasm, she fell onto my chest and screamed. She kissed my cheek tenderly before rolling over onto the bed.

"Wow," was all I could say. I was at a loss for words. She grabbed my face and kissed my lips. She continued to kiss my body.

Down to my neck, down to my chest. She toyed with me, running a finger down my body to my hardness. She did not touch it before running back up.

Her lips reached my belly button. She playfully tongued inside before moving down further. She stopped a moment at my pubic hair. She looked into my eyes before taking my cock into her mouth.

She took in all of my hardness, sucking as she made her way down. She continued to suck on the way up. She released me, placing a hand on my pulsating cock. She smiled mischievously grinned as she stroked me.

I could feel my own orgasm grow within my groin. Her stroking speed increased. I could feel my cock get harder. A little pre-cum dribbled on her hand. She lowered her head to tongue herself clean. She smiled at the taste.

She lowered her mouth on my cock, slowly reaching my root, sucking hard as she traveled. She increased her speed, fucking her mouth. I placed my hands guiding her down.

I could feel my explosion coming; I wanted to warn her. But she was ready. I could feel her throat relax as my cum burst out and into her. She swallowed as much as she could, spilling a single drop. She drained me, of cum and energy.

I almost fell asleep.

She kissed my cheek as she got off the bed. She walked to the bathroom. I heard the faucet run for a moment, then turn off. She came back out and kissed my lips.

"My God, you are wonderful," she whispered as she sat in a chair. She smiled at me, her breathing returning to normal.

"What would you like to do now?" I asked, reaching for my glasses.

For a moment, she was silent, deep in thought. "How about round two?" she giggled as she returned to the bed.

I was going to like my stay in Canada.