Thursdays 10/13- Arrival

She is waiting for me as I come down the jetway, wearing a white sundress with multihued orchids emblazoned on it. Her shoes are white, to match the dress, and she wears a large-brimmed straw hat bearing a band that is the same red as her hair.

She does not wave as I approach, but when I draw up in front of her, she reaches for my hand and, throwing caution to the wind, we engage in a lingering kiss. Oddly enough, there among the teeming and anonymous hundreds, I feel less exposed than any other time we have been together.

We proceed to the taxi station, where we catch the shuttle for the hotel. I have reserved a suite at the conference site, at a reduced rate, but still pricey. If asked I will say that it was all that remained for my last-minute arrival. Among the other lies I've told to get away, this one would hardly stand out.

Of course, none of this concerns me as we take our place at the back of the shuttle, holding hands, oblivious to who might see us. My wedding band is in my pocket. I had taken it off and pocketed it on the plane, drawing a censorious stare from my female seat-mate.

As in my fantasy, we kiss our way up the elevator, to the ninth floor. Her lips mold themselves to mine, our mouths adjust as we move, our tongues sliding against each other as we probe. Again, the exposure; the elevator is glass. The vague possibility that someone I know might see us hovers at the edge of consciousness. I am too besotted to care.

It takes only two tries to get the key to work and we are in the room, alone at last. She steps forward into my arms, grinding herself against my surely obvious erection. Her hand fumbles with the belt, the button, the zipper, releasing them all sufficiently that she is able to free my cock from its confines. I am extremely hard, the skin stretched taut. As she runs her fingers gently along my length, I swear that I can feel every blood vessel, every feature of my skin, in stark relief on her fingertips. I moan into her mouth, and it is all I can do not to explode on her right there.

Then, firmly grasping me, she breaks the kiss.

"Do you want to come right now?"

"Yes...no," I manage to croak.

"Which is it?"

"Both."

"Well, here's my problem, lover boy. I want to feel your tongue on my pussy and I want your hard cock inside it, in that order. But I want to shower first. Now," she says, with a devilish grin and a gleam in her eyes, "the conundrum." Where has this sang froid come from? Other times she seems so wanton and abandoned, but now she is completely in control. "I hear guys your age sometimes have problems getting it up again. I want to get on my knees and let you come in my mouth, because I don't think it's fair to leave you in this state and... well... because I feel like I've been wet ever since that email and you deserve some reward for that. You going to have a problem getting it up in a half-hour or forty-five minutes?"

As I respond, I am shocked by how confident I sound. "To fuck you? Not a chance."

"Okay," she says and drops quickly to her knees. With no preliminaries, she takes my cock as far into her mouth as she can, until I touch the back of her throat. Then, she simply starts pumping up and down, one hand making a fist at the base and jerking in opposition to the movement of her mouth. There is little technique, just a set of sensations: the hand squeezing me at the base, the lips clamping down and dragging the taut skin, the feeling of sliding along her tongue.

Then there are the sounds, the gulping sound as she takes me in again and again, the breathing through the nose, the moans as she expresses her arousal. She does not look up; her eyes are closed, intent on what she is doing.

It doesn't take long. The load I have been saving through six hours of transit from my home to the hotel, the load I have been wanting to release for a week despite the increased frequency of sex with my wife, comes roaring (I actually thought I could hear it roar for a moment) from my balls and down her throat. I cry out, hoping no one is in the adjoining rooms, but caring very little if they are. She makes a little choking sound and, as I look down, I see a small amount of my semen escape onto her lips.

When I'm finished, she pulls away and stands up. Then, looking directly into my eyes, takes the drop of me on her fingertip and, coquettishly, places the finger in her mouth in an exaggerated pantomime of sucking, smiles, and turns to the bathroom.

"Be naked when I get out," she calls behind her. The last I see, as she steps in to the bathroom, is her reaching back for the zipper on the sundress. I hear it unzip and it flies unceremoniously through the doorway. The door closes.

I waste no time in stripping and, following her lead, I simply throw my clothes to the floor. Not sure of what to do, I turn back the covers on the king-sized bed and lie down on the left, my accustomed side, and one that will force her to cross the room in easy view. The hiss of the water can be heard, and soon wisps of steam can be seen from under the door. I imagine the water sluicing over her body, trying to reconstruct it from the bits and pieces I have seen. Blood begins to rush to my crotch and already I feel my cock begin to stir. A good sign.

Then the water stops and after an interminable couple of minutes the door opens. She walks out, gloriously, unashamedly naked. Her red hair, now lank from the shower, hangs down to the top of her breasts, breasts which were fuller still than I had imagined. They swing with her motion, her beautiful pink nipples pointing slightly upward with their curve.

Her pale skin is flush from the shower, accentuating the occasional freckles that speckle her. When I can tear my eyes from her breasts, I glance downward, to the small bush of red hair between her lovely, lovely thighs. She looks like a goddess in that moment, one smiling benevolently on me, and I want to worship at the altar of her body.

I am suddenly conscious of my age, of the twelve years that separate us, and of the extra weight I carry. She has the slightest hint of a belly, but is otherwise perfectly lithe while I bear proof, not a great deal, but some, of how sedentary I've been in recent years. Still, she looks at me with approval, and joins me in the bed. As she pulls the cover up, she glances down at my cock, noting with a glance the signs of life there.

In no time at all we are in each others' arms, hands wandering, thrilling to the touch of new skin as we press together. My cock stiffens quickly and, as she touches it, she moans at its hardness. I caress those beautiful breasts, playing with her erect nipples, eliciting sighs and gasps indicating her rising excitement.

Gently, I push her onto her back, and begin a trail of kisses at her ear, tonguing the space around that new earring I had noticed, the cold, metallic taste a contrast to the warm flesh of her lobe. Then my mouth tracks down the side of her neck, to her throat, where I linger in that hollow that had first entranced me. Following that, to her breasts, kissing first the underside, then trailing my tongue along the side of one, homing in and circling around the nipple, until I finally graze it with my tongue, causing her to cry out.

I alternate between taking much of the breast in my mouth, gently sucking, and attacking her nipple with my tongue. My hand wanders between her legs and I begin to gently stroke the outside of her sopping cunt. Using my middle finger, I drag indolently up and down, as if I had no aim while with my mouth I continue my assault on her breast. Finally, I slip the finger in and again she cries out. I feel her cunt tighten around my finger and, my face pressed against her breast, I smile.

Leaving the breast, I kiss my way down her abdomen and, as I reach the top of her bush, of those delicate red hairs surrounding the pink cleft between her thighs, I shift positions so that I approach from below. She spreads her legs for me, and I hook my arms under them, holding her hips as I begin to run my tongue up her left thigh. Goosebumps follow my tongue and I stop just short of her outer lips. Then I repeat the process on the other thigh. She is wet, and I begin to taste her sour-sweetness. The aroma of it mixes with the lavender of the soap she used in the shower.

Finally, I bury my face in her cunt. The smell and the acidic taste overwhelms me and all I want to do is lick her, suck there, make her cry out again and again. And she is crying out. I run my tongue all up and down, prodding her opening, battering her clit, seemingly all places at once. She reaches down and presses me into her; were my head not shaved, she would surely grab my hair. I lick up along the lips, trying to drive it under the hood of her clit, then down, poking it into her opening. The repetition of this motion drives her over the edge and she comes again.

She grabs my head to pull me up and I do not resist. Her scent clings to me, my face glistens with her juices. Once I am beside her, she begins kissing me, frantically, and grabs at my cock. Though it has been only about a half-hour since she let me come in her mouth, I am rock hard; it had been a challenge not to come when I was between her legs and it rubbed against the sheets.

Smiling, she pushes me back gently and straddles me, grabbing my cock and pointing it at her opening. She settles a bit, and lodges my tip just inside her sheath. As she starts to descend, I push, at which she pulls back, standing higher on her knees and allowing me to pop out.

Again, the devilish grin. "No. We do this in my time."

Once more she places me just inside her and begins an excruciatingly slow descent. Her eyes close and I resist the urge to try plunging into her again. Instead, I luxuriate in the feeling of her interior flesh parting, giving way to my cock, and then the snugness that follows the advance. At last she is completely impaled on me; my head is propped sufficiently on a pillow that I can see where her red hairs and my brown ones meet.

Now she is firmly in control and begins sliding up and down, again slowly, on my captive cock, taking her pleasure as she wants it. I am transfixed by the movement of her breasts, by the warmth of her snatch, by the look of abandon on her face as she starts to ride me. She leans forward, placing her hands on the headboard and allowing her breasts to dangle in front of my face. Her lovely red hair hangs over her shoulders, almost covering them. My tongue darts out, seeking her nipples again, causing her to moan even louder.

Then her hands move from the headboard to my chest and she is using me to push against, spreading her thighs as far as she can to take me in as deeply as possible with each thrust. I look down to the beautiful sight of my cock appearing and disappearing between her splayed lips.

Her orgasm is clearly building, and she leans back now, supporting herself with her hands. My cock bends back a little with her and I fear, as she pulls up on it, that I will spring free. But she knows what she is doing; just as it seems she will lose me, she closes her thighs and thrusts her hips forward. She is beginning to ride me harder, and a bit faster, and finally her climax breaks upon her. I see her eyes fly open, completely dilated, as she calls out my name and finally exhales with relief.

After a moment, she leans forward again and, sensing that the tide has turned, I take control. She sits more or less straight up and I grab her hips and begin pushing her up and down on me. Her breasts bounce, and I find myself compelled to sit up, my arms around her torso, and take first one breast, then the other, in my mouth, kissing, teasing as she bounces madly on me.

Finally, I feel my own orgasm arriving. I lay back and once more take hold of her hips. As she rises, I fall, drawing almost completely out. As she falls, I rise, driving myself completely in. When the moment arrives, I pull her down completely onto me at the same time thrusting as hard as I can. I lift her from the bed as I explode inside her, my cock spasming harder than I thought possible considering how recently I had come.

When the spasms subside, she looks down at me, a smile of post-coital languor on her face. Then she dismounts me and mock-collapses onto her chest. Her red hair splays out across the white pillow; I cannot see her face, which is buried in it.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted," came a muffled voice. "What now?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."