Sex or rather the absence of it does strange things to a guy's mind, especially when that guy in question is as horny as hell and his partner just isn't interested, nor does it ever seem likely that her interest will peak anytime soon. What's a guy to do? There was a danger that if I let the current situation continue I would get too old to do anything about it. I'd thought about doing something about it many times before, but enough was enough and so taking things into my own hands I decide to post an ad on a swinging site, not expecting much apart from a few salacious e-mails – how wrong could I be!
It all started when an e-mail popped into my inbox from Tara, she worked in the city, her friends had all got long-time partners, or were married with kids, she was beginning to feel lonely and was looking for a daring partner that would live her wildest fantasies for real, but most importantly she wanted sex, and lots of it.
Over the next few weeks we exchanged e-mails, each one successfully getting more and more explicit as to what our greatest sexual fantasies were. Finally, with a sense of apprehension and also great excitement we agree to meet on neutral ground. My sexual desire for this woman was ruling my mind, knowing full well that if my partner ever discovered what I was up to my life wouldn't be worth living.
I arrive at the appointed restaurant and look nervously around when my eyes come to rest on a tall woman perched on a stool by the bar. She spots me, eloquently slides off the stool and walks towards me. She's a woman of great poise and exquisite natural beauty with long slender legs that seem to go on forever, she's wearing a tight dress that perfectly hugs her womanly contours. I'm rooted to the spot not quite sure whether to run or cry for joy. Fortunately she breaks the ice with a cheery, "You're better than I expected." "Isn't that meant to be my line," I reply. We laugh, things could have started worse.
We're shown to our table and through the course of the dinner it's clear we like each other, we flirt outrageously, laughing at each other's jokes, even when they're clearly pretty bad and the sexual tension is palpable. We talk about our life, our dreams, our ambitions, our frustrations and just the funny things that have happened in our life. In hushed tones we begin venture down a path of no return and describe what we would like to do to each other sexually.
Tara nonchalantly slips her foot out of her shoe and begins to teasingly rub her bare foot along the inside of my trouser leg, settling teasingly on my crotch. The effect her actions are having on me are becoming increasingly evident by the growing bulge in my trousers, but it's clearly having a similar effect on Tara too as my eyes come to rest on her increasingly erect nipples that now tantalisingly poke through the fabric of her dress. Fortunately the light in the restaurant is subdued and aside from us stroking each other's hands the other diners are oblivious to what's transpiring. The waiter on the other hand is another matter entirely.
It's getting late but neither of us wishes the evening to end, savouring every last moment like some precious elixir we have long sought, but has been forever elusive. Tara suggests that we go back to her place for "a coffee" but we know that the invitation means much more – besides which I hate coffee. As we walk down the street, our fingers entwined together, I suddenly pull Tara down a side street, pushing her against a wall and we kiss, urgently, passionately, long wet kisses, our tongues embrace as they probe deeply into each others mouth.
