I first met her over the Internet at site that discussed books. I was looking for some new things to read, and she was lingering on the site, and I guess through random chance we just happened upon each other. We just got to talking, and it sort of clicked. I am not even sure why - I always thought it was because of the relative anonymity of the Internet - but we rather quickly started discussing things much more than books. In a few short weeks, we were discussing different parts of our lives: our joys, our dreams, our failures, everything. It was a kind of freedom, to be able to discuss whatever we thought without judgment or ridicule, things that we would never say to another live human being, things very personal.
Of course the personal turned to discussing sex. She was almost ten years younger than me, but had discovered in this, the third year of marriage, her husband was not very interested in sex, especially not with the frequency and level of passion of which she desired. I was 35 at the time, and had been married for over 10 years, and had found that kids and work and the normal comings and goings of life had drained most of my wife's typically limited desires almost completely. Through this wondrous medium, we shared our stories of unmet needs, more open than either one had ever been, including with our own spouses. I couldn't say how exactly started, some innocent flirtation mixed in with more serious talk about our own fantasies and desires, but soon we were trading explicit email stories, detailing how we would enjoy each other and fulfill our deepest needs. She was the submissive type, and her thoughts would usually lead to her between my legs, sucking on my large, thick cock (in both our stories, that is the way we described me, even though I (having no comparisons) would never have though I was anything but average sized, or maybe even smaller), while I came into her willing mouth. More surprising to me was that I discovered I liked the thought of being the aggressor, having this woman please me, at my beck and call, for my needs. It was like a game within a game, since my other overwhelming desire was to please (dominate?) her in such a way that I would take full possession of her, body, mind and soul. It is difficult to explain, but the feelings were very intense, the desires very strong.
As the weeks progressed, our communication became more explicit and frequent. Her emails started including pictures, first a few head shots, but slowly more revealing. I can still remember the first shot she sent to me of her in her bra - comparably tame, but it drove me wild. It was a gold bra, and it accentuated her considerably cleavage. It was this, with the look in her eyes, a look that was full of desire and need and utter willingness that pierced my heart and made me hard as a rock all at the same moment. Each additional picture, shared with each email, only furthered my appetite for this sensuous woman. When she discovered that I loved stockings and garters, she added it to her wardrobe, and would tease me one picture at a time, day after day, driving me crazy. Soon the pictures also included recordings - recordings of her masturbating, fantasizing about me, calling my name. The sound of her moans and pleas asking me to fuck her harder while she came at her own hand - it was intoxicating. And when she talked dirty, telling me how bad she wanted to be my personal slut, my whore; I still get hard just thinking about it. When we finally crossed the barrier to phone sex, it was unbelievable. She had the ability to make me cum in my pants without me even touching myself. And for her ... well it opened her up to a world she scarcely knew possible. My husky voice, demanding that she cum for me, well, she would have three or four orgasms in a row. Like I said - it was intoxicating. And also started interfering with our lives.
She lived quite a distance away from me - I was in the Chicago area, and she lived in a suburb of Atlanta. She had a job that allowed a high degree of flexibility - even before she met me she often got to work late, and worked late. She could come and go as she pleased, as she didn't have any real direct supervision. As long as she got her work done, everything was ok. I, on the other hand, had a sort of standard 9-5 job, and with the trials of life, only had limited times to communicate with her. She found herself going into work later and later, so she could send me more emails during the day, and I was staying up later and later, so we could find some time to chat. The phone calls got riskier - sometimes she would call me at work because she had a particularly strong desire, and I would find myself trying to control myself while she masturbated and explicitly told me how she was going to going to kneel in front of me, unzip my pants, rubbing my bulging cock. How she would look up at me, the desire in her eyes, as she pulled down my pants and underwear, and would lick the tip of my cock and ask me if she could be a good slut and suck me off. I would almost feel it as she described how willing she would be with her warm and tight mouth, to take it all, to have my member push all the way to the back of her throat. I can still hear her voice, between moans as she inched to cumming herself, telling me how this sweet innocent girl, that no one would have ever suspected, would be my own whore, my own fuck toy, to do with as I pleased, to treat in whatever depraved manner I could desire, anything, as long as she could swallow my cum. Sometimes I could last as she begged me to cum as she went through wave after wave of orgasm, but other times, right in the office, or my car, or wherever I was when she called, I couldn't.
It was when her boss started noticing her lack of performance, and I found I was practically ignoring my wife and kids, that we both decided we had reached a place neither of us planned, or maybe even wanted. It was hard to tell on the second part, because we had achieved a place that neither of us thought possible, and didn't want it to stop. In that sense it was fortunate we lived so far away, because we didn't have any illusions about this being "not real", not part of the possible. I am not sure how we actually managed it, but we mutually quit each other cold turkey, something that on my side I could say was very difficult.
It was almost ten months later, ironically on her birthday, that I had the need to go to Atlanta for business. I was supposed to be there for three days for a sales meeting, one that I wasn't really looking forward to. I debated about contacting her, and decided to send her an email wishing her a happy birthday, trying to keep it as innocent as possible. I briefly mentioned I was in Atlanta, but, as sorely tempted as I was, decided not to mention anything about meeting for coffee or a drink. I honestly wasn't sure she would even be interested in talking to me.
Around dinner time I got a call from her. She saw my email and wanted to thank me for wishing her a happy birthday. We chatted for a few minutes, finding out about how things were going, where I was staying, how I liked Atlanta, and the like, but I was out with some people from my company, so I needed to go. She thanked me again and said goodnight. It was a fairly quick call - not longer than 5 minutes, and I found myself as I returned to my seat wistfully thinking about her, and determining that she had moved on with her life, which I was happy for her about.
By 8:30 I was back in the hotel room, not really in the mood to drink with my coworkers, especially since they were going out and the weather was unpleasant - cold and wet. I used the weather as an excuse, but honestly, the desire to stay out late and drink heavily with people I didn't know that well had diminished considerably since I turned 30. I guess you could call it old age, but I had another day at the conference, and I didn't want to spend it nursing a hangover. After checking some email, and calling the wife and kids, I settled down in front of the tv, enjoying my chance to watch uninterrupted sports.
I was starting to doze off when I heard the knocking at my door. I hoped it wasn't a drunken, or worse, sick, co-worker who needed help. I opened the door, and to my surprise, it was her, dressed in a long rain coat. She smiled at me shyly, and asked if she could come in. I was too stunned to do anything but let her in.
I closed the door and we walked down the hallway of the room to the main bedroom area. Looking down at the carpet, she started, "I know I shouldn't have come here, but when I got your email, I couldn't stop thinking, and when I heard your voice ..." she trailed off, untied her rain coat, opened it up, and looked up at me directly.
How to describe it? I don't think I could do it justice, especially the reaction it had on me. She was wearing black stockings, a black garter, no panties - revealing her shaved mound, and a black bra that would have driven me wild just by itself. But it was the look on her face, the one of need and desire and all the things that we had talked about and dreamed and fantasized - it was all there. Even as a teen I don't think I got that excited that fast.
