Our Schedules Collide

We have been emailing back and forth for months, friendly banter, and sometimes useless blah just to fill a screen. We write about our families, and our daily lives, every once in a while some gentle flirting, or innuendo.

We knew each other well at one time, together for the better part of our high school careers. We spent every available moment together. Time and real life separated us, from being "us". Neither of us forgot the other, even as our separate marriages and lives drew on. We were each other's first for many things, most involving some stage of intimacy. I can still remember everything about each of those nights.

During our emails you mention a business trip you are off to in the coming weeks. I ask the basic questions of where, when, and for what; mostly just for conversation. My new job sends me off traveling a couple times a year, so I'm always curious. When you respond back I look at my own calendar. Our schedules collide, overlapping conference dates in Orlando. My heart flutters a bit. I sit in my chair wondering if I should tell you. I always feel like a freak when I appear too eager. I slowly type a response, and hesitantly click the send button, still worried about rejection. I give you my dates and times, and where I am staying.

Even with the size of Orlando we are actually pretty close, a short Taxi ride looks like it. I research the local restaurants, something nice, not screaming romance, but quiet. I email you back and we agree. I rearranged my travel plans to add an extra night, telling my wife that the meeting plans had changed. I wanted to make sure that something with work didn't arise to foul our plans.

My heart has raced from the time we arranged to meet. My mind has skipped to the times where some part of you was naked or nearly so. When we were younger I wasn't ready, and you never found a way to open me up. I wanted to please you; sometime I was successful, oftentimes not. It wasn't until we were apart that you told me your needs and desires. I have pondered them over and over, but this is not what we are meeting for. We both agreed an early friendly dinner, platonic! That hasn't stopped my head from spinning all week though.

My meetings finish as scheduled, and I am left with time to get ready. I take a shower and my mind wanders. I end up pleasuring myself hoping that will help me shift gears. I know it's going to be tough, because all I can think about in that steaming shower are moments where you have been there with me. I spend my load and wash up, and then I turn the dial to frigid in hopes of cooling off. The trick works for now, and my mind clears. I begin to create a platonic topic list in my mind. Working through the conversations I search for ways to extend them.

I finish getting ready and look myself over in the mirror. My dress pants, shirt and tie are all freshly pressed; my shoes are shined to a tight gloss. Military school taught me well. I've gained a couple pounds over the years, but my clean cut appearance looks good. My hair is tightly buzzed, and my face clean shaven. The hotel desk calls up to tell me that my car has arrived.

My tendencies to be early haven't changed; I arrive before you and am seated at a private table. I order myself a double, hoping it will calm me down. When the drink arrives I take a long pull looking forward to the intoxicate helping. The seconds feel like minutes, I realized that I am checking my watch every 15 seconds. I tell myself repeatedly "plutonic"; however my mind is flashing back like a movie clip show through our times together. Many of the memories that are flashing before me are not plutonic.

I glance towards the entrance and I see you, I go almost entirely numb. You look absolutely amazing. You are wearing a business suit with well fitted skirt and jacket, under your jacket is a satin button-down blouse. You are wearing your hair down; its Auburn color drives me crazy. Even with the curls your hair passes just below where I imagine your nipples to be. I try to correct myself, but it's too late the mental image has generated. I stand up as you get closer, and when you reach me I just smile at you and squeeze you tight, no kiss, just a hug. I whisper "Hello." Our hug lingers a moment past plutonic and I slowly let you go. As you sit down I remark at how beautiful you look, this evening.

As the evening moves on dinner goes better than I expected. The last couple times we were together things were very awkward, this time I feel that we are getting along great. We chat about the past week and discuss each others business travels. We talk about our families, even though many of the topics had been touched on in emails. As we sit and talk I appreciate your smile and your laugh. It's not hard to remember how I became infatuated in the past. A couple of times each of us slip an innuendo into the conversation, and we smile at each other moving on. We talk about our spouses and our marriages, the ups and downs. I am surprised as the check arrives, because I feel like I'm not done. You grab the check telling me it's your turn. I search through my mind for a way to make the night a little longer. My heart nearly stops when you say to me.

"Why don't we get some beer and hang out at my hotel for a little while."

I am relieved, I always feel like I want more time with you than you want with me. Having you make this suggestion makes me feel less self conscious about my feelings, maybe I'm not alone with my memories, and thoughts.

I call the car service I'm using and have them pick us up. We stop at a convenience store and then head over to your hotel. I follow you up to your room. When we get inside I find the ice bucket and follow the signs to the ice machine. It's a couple of floors away. I call my wife for our evening chat, and promise that I'll call in the morning before I leave. When I get back to your room I hear you talking on the phone, and wait outside until you are finished. When I hear that you are through I knock lightly and walk in, closing the door behind me.

Your room is standard business hotel issue, bed, TV, desk, loveseat, and a small balcony with the requisite plastic resin white chairs and cocktail table. I stick the beers into the ice bucket, and head out to the balcony. It is private with solid walls on each side, and a metal railing. I sit at one of the chairs and open a beer for each of us. My buzz from the restaurant drinks is still strong. I wonder how you are feeling. The Florida air feels great; it's warm, with a very light breeze. The night is peaceful, even with the hotel air conditioning compressors running in the background. The balcony looks over a man made pond with a fountain floating in the middle, and beyond that a resort's golf course.

Our conversation begins to go from innuendo to outright sex. We talk about what we enjoy with our partners. I tell you with no surprise I am fine with the routine. I play with my wife's breasts to get her started, she goes down on me sucking my cock, before I cum she uses my cock to get herself off while I rub her breasts, and I finish off preferably from behind her doggy style. I was the boring one sexually between you and I. Unfortunately when we dated you never fully shared your sexual desires. It wasn't until after we had begun to see other people that you began to tell me what got you off.

The beer is getting to us both. You had taken off your jacket when you came in. As the alcohol has warmed you up you shirt has slowly opened. I can just see the front clasp on your bra. And with the way your legs are positioned with your feet on the table I can imagine that with just the right light I would be able to see your panties. In my mind I think about what you are wearing, or not? I think back and don't remember any panty lines. I can well my cock begin to swell. I tell myself repeatedly "plutonic!!!" I try to change my minds direction.

I begin to question you; do you still like to be tied up? Spanked? Nipple clamps? Anal? Did you ever fulfill your fantasy about being fucked by two guys? (I still cum to the story of you, and another girl getting a guy off while you were on a college trip. Although, I put myself in his place during the mental playback.) At this point my cock is rock hard, fighting the fabric that is holding it in. I ask you tell me how you pleasure yourself.

You begin by telling me about movies you like; as you speak you begin to actually pleasure yourself in front of me, telling me what you are doing as if I'm not actually there.

You unbutton the balance of your blouse and begin by sliding you hand under your bra. I imagine your nickel sized pink nipple being pinched between you fingers. You unclasp your bra and massage you tits. I have loved you're 'A' cups from the first time I slid my hand under your shirt to touch them.

I slide my own hand into my pants unbuckling my belt, button, and fly. You look over and tell me to take it out, or this isn't fair game. I obey in the flash of a moment. My pants down to my thighs and my shaved cock now out in the breeze.

You slide up your skirt and move your thong to the side and began a carefully choreographed dance with your fingers around your clit. I can see your pussy begin to glisten, as my head does the same. You slide further down on the chair and close your eyes and you massage your well trimmed pussy. I sit there and watch, listening to you tell me what's going on in your mind, and with your body. I am slowly and rhythmically hand fucking my cock, trying not to cum. You slide three of you fingers deep into you pussy and begin to rock yourself into them. As you pump I watch your juice begin to drip down across your anus. Your fingers glisten with your moisture. You open your eyes and watch me as ask you if you like how excited you have me. You respond by asking for my busy hand. I extend, it unsure as to what you have in mind. You moisten my hand with your juices by wiping your hand on mine. As I rub your lube on my cock I am having trouble controlling myself. I barely touch my rod, feeling as though I could cum just watching you.

You smile and look at me, as we take in each others sex. You tell me to stay where I am, and that you'll be right back. When you return you are completely nude, the image I had in the restaurant is standing in front of me. Your beautiful hair is just covering your nipples. You are carrying a vibe, you smile at me, and tell me it's one that I sent to you years ago. You lean over the table and take my hand off my cock, holding it by my wrist near the arm of the chair. You take your toy and hold it against my cock, it's length and girth are nearly the same as mine. It has a bulbous head, and is ribbed in a vein like fashion. You whisper in my ear, letting your hair fall across my face, that you have cum many nights with this tool deep in you. I wonder if you have thought of me, but leave that to my imagination. You rub the length of your toy against my glistening head and then return to your chair. You finger your clit and then return yourself to the place you were before your break.

As the drops begin to roll past your anus again, you work the cock deep into you. You moan load enough for anyone around to hear you. One hand is working the toy while the other goes between tossing you clit, and squeezes your breasts. Your pace increases faster and faster until you give your toy a final thrust, pinching your nipple, you release a final moan and relax. I smile at you, and thank you for sharing. You tell me it's my turn now. I watch you slowly fuck yourself, you moisten your hand again and signal that you want to share it. Your juice feels amazing on my skin. You rub the toy against your anus and slip it in, it's head disappears and you gently drill it deeper. Slowly you fuck your ass, this is enough for me and I begin to expend my load into sticky puddles around my cock, and balls. You smirk at me and withdraw your toy, stating that you thought I would like to watch that. You lick your wet hand, and then moving the table come near me. On your knees you look up, and say "It's only a kiss, that's within the rules we set." You kiss every bit of cum off of me. Then you collect some of your own juice with your fingers and bring it to my lips so that I can taste you too.

Standing up, you straddle the chair and begin to kiss me, deep and gentle. It doesn't last long, but it's enough for us to taste each other's sex, and feel each others soft tongues brush against the other.

You sit back in your chair, and we each have one of the two last remaining beers. The ice has melted, but the beer is still cold. We talk a while longer and tease each other. I glance at your room clock and see how late it is. It's time to go our separate ways again.

I call a car for myself and use your restroom. Before I leave I hug you tight, no kiss, you are wearing a tee shirt now, you are still gorgeous. As I walk away you say "I'll email you. Goodnight my friend"