This is based on a fantasy that has developed in my mind over the past several months as Brittni4u and I have exchanged emails. I encourage you to read her stories. Her name and email are included in this story with her permission and encouragement.
Enjoy!
*****
January 5th, 2017
From: abob1
To: Brittni4u
"Hey, sexy. So we've been emailing now for almost a year, and I never thought I would be comfortable enough to ask you this, but I'm wondering if you would want to meet in person. My company sends me to San Francisco every January, and I'll be there in a couple weeks. I know you're a California girl. Any chance you are relatively close to San Fran, and, if so, would you want to meet? I completely understand if the answer is no, just thought I'd put it out there."
From: Brittni4u
To: abob1
"Hey baby! Wow, I honestly never even considered meeting you in person since you live on the other side of the country. I am not particularly close to San Fran, but can get there in a few hours. Just to be safe, would you mind meeting me in a public place somewhere, instead of your hotel room?"
From: abob1
To: Brittni4u
"Great! Yes, of course we can meet in public. How about the Ferry Building Farmer's Market, two Saturday's from now, at 10am. I'll meet you at the Blue Bottle coffee shop there. And, for the record, since you made reference to my hotel room: I don't want to have sex with you. I do, however, want to photograph you, if you're willing. I am an avid amateur photographer, and would love to take some x-rated pictures of you. You could hide your face for the sake of anonymity. What do you think?"
From: Brittni4u
To: abob1
"I knew you were naughty, baby. I can meet you there. What do you want me to wear?"
'Wow, this is moving fast,' I thought to myself. I had never in my wildest dreams assumed that I'd be able to dictate what she would wear. I wrote back that she should wear whatever she most enjoys stripping out of, with her favorite thong underneath. She wrote back all giggly and excited, then we exchanged phone numbers, and agreed to meet in two Saturdays.
...
For the next two weeks, for the entire flight to the west coast, and the Friday before, I was panicky. What was I doing? Brittni was sexy as hell. Not just her appearance, but her skills as a writer and storyteller were all big turn-ons for me. Even though I made it clear that I did not want to sleep with her, I was racked with guilt that this was, on some level, cheating. And I love my wife. So why put myself in this situation?
I convinced myself that I "deserved" this opportunity, for standing by my wife through all of our years of celibacy. We literally never have sex, and I wasn't planning on having sex with Brittni anyway. Repeating this to myself hundreds of times over the two weeks prior, I built up the nerve to go through with it.
I made a point to get to Blue Bottle at 9:45am, not wanting Brittni to have to wait for me, and risk her walking away from it all. Plus, this way I could keep an eye out for her and enjoy watching her walk.
She arrived about ten minutes later, five minutes earlier than our agreed upon time. She was wearing an adorable summer dress, one that she had worn in a picture she had sent me shortly after we started writing. She was as stunning as every image she had sent me. Her legs were toned, tanned and long. Her feet were graceful in a white pair of flip-flops. Her blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders, which themselves were exposed save for the spaghetti straps of her dress. The white dress was form fitting around her midriff, but loose and flowing around her thighs. It stopped just above her knees.
She was looking away from me, scanning the throngs of people for the face in the picture I had sent her. I steadied my nerves, admiring the shape of her ass as I built myself up to walk over to her. My knees felt weak as I stood, but when I saw her turn slightly, and noticed her smile in profile, my concerns melted away.
I approached her from behind and gently tapped her shoulder. "Brittni?" I asked, though I knew it was her.
She turned quickly, seemed to take me in with her eyes in less than a second, then threw her arms around my neck.
"Hi!" she squealed as her feet came off the ground. Her slight build was easy to support, and it made me feel so much better knowing that she trusted me enough right off the bat. She put her feet back on the ground and pushed me back to arm's length again, looking me up and down.
"Wow, you are just as sexy as I imagined!" she said.
"You're more so that I imagined," I replied honestly. God, she was even hotter when she smiled. "I can't believe we're actually meeting in person."
"Me neither, but I'm really glad we did," she said.
"Can I buy you a coffee?"
She responded by hooking her arm around my elbow and steering us towards the back of the line. I blushed, but loved how flirty and at ease she was with me. As we waited in line, she asked me about my career and what I was doing in San Fran, which I answered honestly. She kept looking into my eyes when I gave responses, as if she was genuinely interested in me and what I had to say. This was another turn-on for me, that she was honestly engaged in our conversation. She asked informed follow-up questions, which belied intelligence beyond her years. I was impressed.
Once we had our coffees, we sat down and continued to talk. But she quickly accelerated the conversation.
"So, I have to be honest," she began in a hushed voice to prevent being overheard. "As soon as you agreed to meet in public, I got so wet! I really wanted to meet you at your hotel, but thought I should be safe and meet in public. But now that I've met you, I trust you, and I want to go back to your room right now."
Who was I to refuse?
...
Ten minutes later we were back at the hotel. She grabbed my hand as we made our way to the elevators, and pulled me inside the first one available.
"I want you to start taking pictures now," she said. She moved to the opposite end of the elevator and turned to face the wall. "Get out your camera phone."
I fumbled for it in my pocket, and by the time I had it out she was lifting the back of her dress over her ass. Beneath her skirt, she wore a tantalizingly taut white thong, not much more than a string around her waist, a string up her ass and a small patch of triangle fabric connecting them. I took as many pictures as I could.