Soldier Very Blue

Another big thank you to Passionisbest, my volunteer editor for all of his help and contributions to this story!

I worked his cock, without coming up for air. Using my hand to grip him hard as I sucked and licked him. Teasing the tip, soaking him with my spit. After a couple of minutes, he pulled his cock away and in a second, I was being spun around onto my stomach, he was pinning me down, laying on top of me. His cock pressing against my ass cheek. Kissing the back of my neck. Then he knelt up and his hand grabbed the back of my G-String, pulling me up onto all fours. But he didn't stop there, with one hand he jerked the panties and they ripped with ease. He threw them to the floor.

I was single, professional and enjoying life. It was also around the time when all things online were starting to really kick off. Dating site, sex sites, swinging sites. Whatever you wanted you could find with a few clicks.

I was registered on several dating sites. Not that I was looking for love, I didn't even want a relationship. I wanted fun. I wanted sex. I wanted to discover all that I could. I was feasting on men and sometimes women.

One such site was one designed for people to write to, communicate with and possibly hook up with people from the forces. This was my idea of heaven. There is nothing like a man in uniform. Strong, masculine, sexy and maybe a little dangerous. This site was right up my street.

I spent hours looking at profiles, messaging and talking to numbers of our brave and dedicated military, RAF and Navy.

It wasn't long before the dirty talk, flirtatious messaging and sometimes even the occasional very dirty video call, were not enough and I wanted the real thing. I met up with a number if these delightful characters. Dates that always ended with sex. Sometimes great sex, sometimes average sex, but always sex. They also never led to anything more. Just the way I liked it.

You see I was a late bloomer when it came to sex, who I really was, what I wanted or needed. I was 30 before I really started to spread my wings. Part of that journey was about discovering what kind of sexual likes and dislikes I had. Don't misunderstand me I was no virgin, but I was completely undiscovered. I had no idea really what really turned me on, I had no idea how adventurous or dirty I could be.

I knew that I loved to watch porn. All sorts of porn. Not just the basic guy fucks girl, but group sex, orgies, fetish, gay, and I loved to watch men wanking. I would watch movie after movie, playing with my pussy, teasing myself until my thighs were wet with my juices and my pussy was aching so badly it almost hurt. Eventually, cumming so hard I would cry out, my body arching with pure pleasure.

So, I knew that there was a world of adventure out there for me, I just had to find it. Dating sites and my job allowed me to explore my desires.

I was working in a high-pressure job at the time, a job that had me travelling the country three or four days a week. I was staying in hotels across the country.

This gave me a great deal of freedom and the potential for naughty rendezvous on a regular basis.

I had been chatting to a particularly gorgeous young soldier, Harry. His profile pictures often showed him tanned, heavily muscled and holding various weapons in several different hot, dusty, dangerous parts of the world. When I say young, he was in his late twenties.

We had been messaging for a couple of days. Starting with some tame flirtation and quickly developing into some x rated late night text conversations.

A few days after our dirty sexting had started, I was preparing to leave for the north. I was busy packing when a message alert from Harry came through.

He was asking what I was up to, and I told him that I was preparing to leave for a hotel in Doncaster, and that I was going to be staying there for a couple of days.

I asked what he was doing, and he informed me that he was on leave in London staying with his sister for a week or so.

He asked what time I was going to be at the hotel. I was hoping to be there by 5.30 at the latest. His reply was completely unexpected.

"Great, I can jump on a train and meet you at the hotel," I stared at the message. My heart rate increased, a warm flush spread through my body, up from between my legs to my chest. I didn't respond to the message.

I threw my phone on the bed and continued the packing. I was already dressed. I was a striking woman in my early 30's. Short pixie cropped, white, blonde hair, tanned, large green eyes and a curvy size 12. The curves being in all the right places.

I was never short of admirers; I was building a nice array of fuck buddies and confidence was not an issue for me. I was good looking, and I knew how to use that to my full advantage. There is a difference between just being attractive and being sexy.

As I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Tight fitting G-Raw jeans, white high collar shirt tucked in and a large buckle belt, black Dune stilettoe's giving me an extra 4 inches.

I wondered whether Harry was being serious or whether this was just bravado. A chancer messing around.

My phone buzzed again. I checked the message.

"Does your lack of response mean you don't want me to join you?" he was direct and cocky. I was liking him more each minute. But I wasn't going to be played.

I responded, "You are more than welcome to join me" I was playing the poker bluff. Let's see how far he would go.

The reply came in instantly, "Great I'll look at train times and let you know."

I smiled, "Cool, keep me posted."

I went back to the walk-in wardrobe and rifled through the copious number of dresses I had hanging there. I selected a simple, short loose fitting, multi-coloured stripped silk, little number.

As much I really believed this to be nothing more than bravado, maybe a text pest getting off on leading women on, I did however, always liked to be prepared for all eventualities. After all Harry or no Harry, hotels are always filled with fresh meat. Lonely businessmen, who aren't getting what they want at home, single guys always on the hunt, waiters who liked to get more than just a tip for their hard work.

I threw an extra set of lace underwear, black g string and matching push up bra, into my case and zipped it closed. Grabbed my handbag, keys and headed for the car.

The Mercedes AMG GT convertible was my current beast. Gun metal grey she stood gleaming in the 26-degree heat, on the drive. We were having a great summer and she was the car to enjoy it in, roof down, shades on, music giving me good vibes. There was nothing like it.

On this day, at this specific time, I was loving my life.

I threw my case in the back, jumped in slipped off my heels and replaced them with my driving pumps (heels are too expensive to ruin driving) I launched the roof control, and the almost silent mechanism began its decent into the rear. It clicked into place, I belted up and hit ignition. Sun beating down on me, I took a deep breath, this day had so much potential.

The engine growled as I put her in drive, pulled on my shades and drove off the drive. Lana Del Ray was singing about Summertime Sadness at a volume not uncouth but loud enough to make my heart beat a little harder.

It took just a couple of minutes from where I lived to reach the motorway. In a few seconds I was cruising at 85, sun in my face, wind in my hair and I breathed in life!

My phone buzzed in its holder. I asked the on-board computer to read my messages. The robotic voice obliged. Informing me that Harry was going to be on the 1.30PM train from London and that he would keep me posted.

I smiled. This guy was either a complete lunatic (deranged) or he was a complete lunatic in the very best of ways.

I asked Siri to reply, "Keep me posted my ETA is 5.45."

I then ramped up the music and settled in to my 3-hour drive.

I arrived at the hotel at 5.30. It was a hotel at the higher end of the scale. I do not travel cheap. If I am going to be away from home, then it must be better than home.

I parked, swapped back into my heels, touched up my lips and grabbed my case.

I had received several updates from Harry. The last being that he was due to get into the station at 7.15pm and asked if I could send him the hotel details. I sent the details. I was still very much airing on the side of he was just weird and was probably laying on a bunk bed in some hot sand box thinking he was being clever, getting his rocks off.

I headed into the airconditioned reception and was greeted by a well-dressed, tall, quite attractive looking male receptionist. Who was probably only about 22?

"Good evening, madam," he gushed, flashing a smile full of previously braced teeth. He couldn't help but cast a look from my legs to my face. I smiled, pushed my shades onto my head and flashed him my best, "I might let you" smiles.

He took my details, I took my key card, and an even younger, spotty, fair-haired lad carried my case to the lift. We walked across the tiled reception, modern art and sculptures artistically placed. Large glass "arty" lighting hanging from the high vaulted ceiling. Stilettoes echoing in the large space.

Once inside the lift, I caught him glancing sideways at me a couple of times. I deliberately stood close to him our arms almost touching. I turned to him and asked how long he had been working in the hotel.

"A few months, not long," he managed to stammer, his face blushing red.

"Well, I am sure will enjoy it," I held his eyes and gave a slight wink as I turned away. I know it was wrong, toying with a boy who was barley shaving and clearly nervous, but I couldn't help myself. The thought that he was so nervous in my presence, the thought that maybe his cock had been twitching in his trousers as he stood next to me and the thought that he would probably have a wank over me at the first opportunity, turned me on massively and made me feel empowered. The rush that I got when a man found me attractive and wanted me was better than any so-called white-knuckle ride or any party drug.

The lift reached my floor and the doors slid open, I stepped out, checking the room number and the signage I started down the corridor to the right. I could feel his eyes burning into my ass as I walked.

I reached my door and used the key card to enter. He followed and once in the main bedroom area he placed my case on the unit next to the long dressing table.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked.

"No, I think I have everything I need right here," I replied, a naughty smile on my lips. I held his gaze for a few seconds and then turned away.

He left, quickly, trying to hide his blushes.

I checked the room for all the things I would expect from a high-end hotel. The bathroom was large, beautifully tiled in black marbled tiles from floor to ceiling. The shower was big enough to hold at least three people comfortably, the bath was deep and had a jacuzzi setting. Jack and Jill sinks, with luxurious looking mini bottles of hand wash, soap, moisturiser standing impeccably by each. The towels were large and soft, white towelling gowns hung behind the door.

In the main room the bed was a king size monster. Luxuriously dressed in white pure cotton, duvet cover, sheets and pillows. There was a mini bar with a selection of wines and spirits, as well an expensive looking coffee machine, the type that have the little foiled pods.

The view from the very large walled window was panoramic. Taking in the rich countryside.

I lifted my case to the bed and unpacked into the wardrobe and draws and then began to undress.

I was standing in a little pair of white French knickers and lacey bra, just about to head to the bathroom, when my phone buzzed.

I read the incoming message, "Ontime to be at the station for 7.15, looks like the drive from station to hotel is about 15 minutes so should be with you for 7.30."

I stood looking at the message, wondering whether this guy was for real. Soldiers are known to be carefree, live on the edge because you never know when it's going to end. But for a guy who has not even met me, only seen pictures of me, to jump on a train and travel halfway across country to meet me on a whim, seems unlikely. But not impossible.

"Fuck it", I thought. I punched his number and waited for the dial tone. If I spoke to him maybe I could tell where he was, for instance the sound of a train in the background.

It rang, it wasn't an international dial tone, so he was in the UK. It rang to voice mail.

If he was indeed sitting on a train, coming to meet an unknown woman and that woman called him, surely, he would answer?

I threw the phone on the bed, almost convinced now that he was a fake.

I headed for the shower. Slipping out of knickers and bra, walking naked into the bathroom with my toiletry bag.

Standing in front of the mirror, I couldn't help but admire my own body. Narrow at the waist but with hips, full breasts but not too big, so they stood nipples pointing out rather than down. Not a flat stomach but not podgy, thighs strong, firm and toned (25 to 30K a week on the tarmac kept them good) my pussy shaved and neat. I was tanned, a golden, deep tan that looked like I had just walked off a beach in Brazil. High cheek bones, straight nose, full lips. My eyes large almond shaped and a translucent green. I was not doing too bad for a woman in her early 30's.

I showered. The water hot and powerful, running my hands over my body, the soap feeling good on my skin. It made my nipples hard. I used the sponge between my legs, the pressure feeling good. Fuck I was horny. If Harry, and I really suspected he was, a fake, then I would need to find someone else tonight. I had an itch and it needed scratching. Getting myself off in the shower would not be enough. I needed a man, I needed to be touched, to be felt. I needed to be taken and to take. I wanted to feast on a man.

I stopped myself from making myself cum, I wanted to keep this feeling of anticipation. I wanted to be ravenous. I wanted to keep the edge if I was going to be hunting, then being this horny would focus my mind on the hunt.

I finished my shower, blood pumping, pussy throbbing. It took me about 40 minutes to apply make-up and fix my hair. Looking in the mirror, I impressed myself. My eyes glowed with a hunger that would be obvious to some experienced men. My lips were swollen with wanting, the pink gloss shining and inviting. My nipples were hard, pressing through my black lace bra and poking at the silky material of little, short dress I was wearing.

My legs looked long, tanned, strong and lean in the black, open toed stilettoes. Exposing deep red nail varnish on my toes.

A few sprays of Channel perfume and I was ready to go. I grabbed my bag and headed out of the door.

As I walked into the bar, my heart beat hard and strong, my stomach was tight with anticipation. Both from wondering if Harry was going to appear and the anticipation of seeing what other possibilities would be available.

I glanced around casually as I walked across to the bar.

There was a group of five guys stood around a high table, drinks in hand, laughing at some unknown joke. They looked like they were business guys. I gave them a quick check over. Out of the five men only a couple were worth a closer look. One, tall, short dark hair, broad at the shoulder, handsome in a traditional kind of way. The other was shorter, with a messy mop of sandy coloured hair and as I looked at him, he was beaming a smile that was quite attractive.

I looked away and headed purposefully towards the bar. I could feel multiple eyes on me as I walked.

I had clocked several others sitting around the bar. Some couples, a few lone eaters, both male and female and a family of four. The children young and a little too loud for my liking.

As I neared the bar, the barman was already stood facing me, he was about 5ft 9, stocky, very short dark hair. Reaching the bar, he beamed a smile showing some great teeth, almost one of those American prom king smiles. His eyes were hazel and big. Not a bad looking guy. I would be happy to play a little horizontal toe to toe with him.

"Good evening, and what can I get for the lady?" he had a deep, northern accent. His smile flashed even wider.

"Well, that's a very loaded question," I replied, locking eyes with him and giving him one of my "you would, wouldn't you?" looks.

He laughed and nodded, "Yeah I guess it is."

"For now, I will take a large, dry white, nothing French," I instructed as I leant into the bar.

"A lady who knows what she likes," he said as he pulled down a large wine glass from above.

"And what I don't," I winked at him.

He turned to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Australian Chardonnay. He had a good ass. So many men just don't have one, let alone a good one. He poured me a large glass from the bottle.

"On the room?" he asked.

"Or you?" I laughed. He laughed and shook his head. As I showed him my room card.

I signed for the drink and headed for a large leather sofa close to the windows.

I had to walk past the group standing at the high table and as I passed, I sensed the interest.

The sofa was not far from the group. As I sat down and glanced over, the shortest and most rotund of the group was looking right at me.

"You can join us if you're alone," he said loudly across the space between us.

The others in the group nodded and expressed their agreement with his offer.

"Thank you but I have plans for this evening, if they change, I'll be sure to let you know," I fired back. I didn't want to say that I was meeting someone, a someone who probably wasn't going to show up and let them think I had been stood up. I also wanted to keep the door open, after all the barman wasn't a dead cert yet either. I believe in playing the numbers.

I took a long deep sip of the wine, cold, yet warming as it went down. I love that glow that spreads in your chest from that first sip.

The group groaned collectively, a couple of them tilted their glasses towards me in acknowledgement.

I checked my phone, another message from Harry.

"At the station, just getting a taxi, should be 15 mins."

The plot thickens, as does the equal measure of doubt and anticipation.

If he really was in that taxi heading to the hotel then not only was he slightly crazy but he was also very, very sexy. Any man who would do such a thing on a whim, was a man I wanted to know better.

Trying not to let excitement get the better of me, I finished the large glass in a few minutes. It's relaxing effect taking the edge off the nervous anticipation. I stood and headed back to the bar.

The barman was just finishing with another customer as I neared.

"Another?" he asked

"I'll take a bottle of that one please?" now that I knew that I liked it, there was little point buying by the glass.

He nodded an appreciative smile and reached into the fridge for a bottle.

"One or two glasses?" he asked, there was a cheekiness to the question. Maybe he was testing the water too.

"Just the one for now," I replied with equal cheekiness.

"I'll get that for the lady," a voice to my left. I looked over and the taller, dark-haired guy from the group was standing, leaning into the bar.

"It's ok I got it," I responded politely but a little annoyed. Don't get me wrong I like confident men, however I don't like cocky men.

"Go on. Let me get it and come and join us," he persisted. His tone was almost pompous.

"The lady said she's got it," another voice, deep, husky, firm, from behind me. I turned. A man, no correction a beautifully, handsome man stood a little off to the right, tall at about 6ft, dirty blonde hair not short but not long, green eyes that sparkled with devilment, a face that appeared to be perfectly chiselled, and a smile that could literally make you cum in your knickers.