Years ago I arranged my flight home to connect through JFK, just to meet Renee. I had no expectations about how the encounter would go. We had met a year or so earlier in an online IRC (Internet Relay Chat) group had frequent public text conversations. Before long we also used IRC for private semi-flirty conversations and used Yahoo for a few innocent webcam sessions. In our private conversations we both confessed about our past sexual relationships, though neither of us suggested anything directly sexual between us.
When I told Renee I was going to be in New England on business, she suggested a stopover at JFK, where she could pick me up at the airport and we'd do lunch. I asked what her husband's reaction would be, and she told me that wouldn't matter because they'd separated two months earlier. As always, there was no hint of anything more than platonically sharing a meal.
Renee met me at baggage claim. We exchanged a brief hug and a quick kiss. I had seen her in photos that she'd shared with me, mostly G-rated plus a handful of PG-13 bikini shots of her during a Caribbean vacation. She was a fortysomething woman who seemed proud of her body -- about 5'2" and trim, with narrow hips and breasts larger than you'd expect to see on a petite woman. She had shoulder-length bottle-blonde hair, full lips, big teeth, and a welcoming smile. Yes, I was attracted to her.
Our conversation was mundane as we walked to her parked car -- Did I enjoy Burlington, where did I eat in Boston, how was the flight, it's good to finally meet you, thanks for picking me up. After she maneuvered her car out of the parking lot and onto the highway, she asked, "What would you like to eat?"
"What are the choices?", I asked. "What do you feel like?"
Her eyes kept looking straight ahead as she drove. "I know a good diner not far from here. It's standard American stuff." Then I thought I heard her quietly add, "Or you could eat me."
Had I heard her correctly? I studied the side of her face, which was still steadfastly staring ahead down the road. Had she really said "eat me"? If so, then was she joking? Or was she serious? If I had misheard her and mistakenly assumed that she was propositioning me, then obviously a sexual response from me would be a major faux pas. If she was serious and I ignored it, then would I be missing an opportunity to take her up on her offer?
I chose a cautious middle ground. "I'm up for anything," I told her. "I don't have to be back at the airport for three hours, maybe four." Renee shot me a quick sideways glance and smiled, then returned her eyes to the highway. I added, just to be clear, yet also hopefully still maintaining a modicum of ambiguity, "I'm all yours. You can have your way with me."
Renee cleared her throat. "I know a place," she said, continuing to stare straight ahead. "We could have a couple of hours of privacy." She paused, then added, "If you'd like that."
"Of course I would," I replied, "I'd like that a lot."
Fifteen minutes later, Renee pulled into a generic chain motel with its two floors of rooms, all with exterior doors. She looked at me and said, "Would you mind going to the office? I'll sit here." Five minutes later I returned with a room key, and five minutes after that she had parked behind the building, her car hidden from the street, and we were in the room. Renee excused herself to visit the bathroom while I fiddled with the air conditioner. She emerged, and I took my turn to relieve myself.
When I returned, Renee was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me approach. I came to a stop a few feet away from her, pausing, hoping she would break the ice. She did. "Just oral," she said. "Is that okay?"
"That's fine," I replied, then added, "More than fine."
Renee smiled, and with an air of total self-confidence said, "So... you can undress me."
"I guess I was waiting for a green light."
Renee snickered. "I told you that you could eat me, didn't I? How much more of a green light do you need?"
"Good point." I reached out a hand to her, and she reached hers up to hold it and stand to face me. This time our kiss was longer and more intimate than our chaste peck at baggage claim, and now our open mouths and playful tongues and bodies pressed together with a promise of more. I reached behind her and unzipped her dress, and she wriggled it off her shoulders and slipped it down her body, stepping out of it. I laid the dress on the second bed and faced her again. She stood before me, seemingly uninhibited in her matching powder blue bra and thong.
"Now you," Renee said, unbuttoning my shirt. Her hands were warm on my skin, brushing across my furry chest as her fingers exposed me one button at a time. My shirt ended up atop her dress. Then her fingers went to work on my belt buckle and zipper, hooking her thumbs inside my underwear and slacks, trying to pull those down, too. I wriggled my hips to help. And now I was naked with my erection at half mast and rising.
I should mention that in the IRC public chat group Renee had made a couple of comments about her husband being 'hung'. On the one hand it was common on chat groups for both men and women to exaggerate. Was she truthful about his size or not? I was acutely aware that I was about to be compared to him, for better or for worse, and that anxiety didn't help the progress of my blood flow.
My gaze -- and Renee's -- focused downward on her hands that were caressing my shaft with an enticing, gentle touch that brought my erection to a full bloom of upward-curving stiffness. "Very nice," she said, sounding approving. At least she didn't say "Uh oh."
I reached behind her back with one hand and unsnapped her bra. Renee's more-than-handfuls breasts were perky and exhibited little droop. Her light brown nipples were delightfully large and hardened, and were surrounded by puffy brown-pink areole. She was gorgeous. I gently cupped them with my hands, feeling her nipples poking against my palms, and her hand continued to caress my shaft.
Renee broke the silence. "Do you like my boobs?"
"They're perfect." Our eyes met. "I'd love to get my mouth on you," I told her, and that brought a smile to her face.
"Where do you want me?" she asked.
"On your back. In bed."
"Show me."
I did. I pulled the bed covers down to expose the crisp white bedsheets and gently guided her to the middle of the bed. "This has to go," I told her, pulling down her thong. Renee lifted her hips to help.
And then there she was, her vulva clean-shaven and pouting just enough to show the pink edges of her inner labia peeking out between outer labia just barely separating at the bottom. I kneeled between her feet, encouraging her knees wider, and her cleft spread open wider. Now I could see her medium size clitoris, its shaft already stiff with its tiny pink head emerging from its hood. A trail of lubrication descended down to the bedsheets.
"You look delicious," I told her, and my mouth homed in. My first contact was with the tip of my tongue. I traced the perimeter of her mound, avoiding direct contact with her inner labia. Renee inhaled a quick breath, then began to breathe more quickly.
My next lick was the barest of an upward flat-tongued graze of the edges of her inner labia from bottom to clit-hardened top. She groaned and angled her hips higher and spread her legs another few inches. Now I could see her vagina winking at me, and her labia were swelling, crimson and glistening.
My third lick was firmer with my tongue spreading her labia wide, my tongue swiping deep from vagina to clitoris and eliciting her sharp intake of breath and a louder moaning exhale. She was very, very wet, and her taste and aroma called to me.
I went to work with steady licks and swirls. Renee planted both feet on the mattress and rocked her hips to dance her pussy against my tongue and lips. She used her hips and her hands on my head to guide me to the rhythm she wanted. She was a glutton for everything I was doing, and I was a glutton for enjoying it. Everything about this moment had my erection denting the mattress.
My tongue played in her vulva, swiping flat from vagina to clitoris, with occasional detours to slip between an inner labia and outer labia, or to probe into her sweet vagina. All the while her labia thickened, and her clitoris jutted upward and was a target for my tongue's circular swirls.
Renee became verbal. "Do you like how I taste?" she asked the top of my head, and I hummed an affirmative response. When my two fingers curled up inside her to stroke her g-spot, she got even noisier with gasps and groans, moans and whimpers and words. "Oh fuck," she grunted, "Oh like that. Suck me. Suck my clit." Inside, her sheath's enticing smoothness was punctuated by the distinct roughness of her g-spot.
When she seemed close to an orgasm, my licks and my fingers remained in a steady rhythm. Her juices were flowing like a creek at springtime. Her kegels was giving my fingers little clenches. "Like that," she gasped raggedly, "That's it. Don't stop. Don't stop!"
I didn't stop. Renee's undulating hips and her fingertips were making dents in my skull to tell me what speed she wanted, and a half minute later her movements froze, her body stiffened, and she exhaled a loud, long groan, then panted a series of breathy, sharp grunts, each matched by a surprisingly strong clench around my embedded fingers. My tongue action shifted to a flattened, muscular side to side pressure on her clitoris. Her profuse juices covered my face from chin to nose. I wasn't ready to stop until she finally pushed my head away with a "No, no more. Too sensitive."
I moved upward to lay beside her, facing her. My free hand roamed from one breast to the other, caressing and gently pinching each one nipple. Renee's closest hand found my erection. "What's this?" she observed with a playful tone. She scooted her body lower. All I could see was the top of her head, then I felt her mouth engulf my shaft. She nudged me to signal that she wanted me to lie on my back.
I should mention at this point that I take a long time to climax from a blowjob. Why? Self-consciousness perhaps? A past history of a few partners who had a strong dislike of having me finish in their mouth? Renee did her best for what seemed like ten minutes before she lifted her head, her slippery fist continuing to hold my shaft, and looked up at my face. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"No," I told her. "It's just me. I don't easily come from oral."
"Oh. You're more of a pussy lover."
I smiled. "Very much so."
Renee didn't say a word and just maneuvered herself on top of me, straddling my hips. "Don't move," she said and began to slide her raw, inflamed and deliciously juicy cleft up and down the length of my erection. Her palms rested on my chest, and I cupped her breasts in my hands. "How's this?" she asked, grinning. "Is this better?"
"You feel fantastic."
