We met online. At thirty-one, he was fourteen years younger than me, but I didn't mind that at all. He wasn't like all of the other younger men I'd chatted with online. I'd grown bored them. They just wanted to have cyber sex and role play. They all seemed shallow and uninteresting when compared to Glen. And he didn't seem to mind that I was older, so what the heck.
We didn't talk about sex at all, at least not for a long time—several weeks in fact. When we did, well let's face it, it's easy to say things online. My online creed was "If my lover wants it, and it doesn't hurt me, then why not do it?" I actually believed that I could back that up, even though I had never been put to the test.
After all, what do men usually want to hear? Most, at least those I've met online, want to hear that the woman swallows, likes getting fucked in the ass, and would not object to a threesome with another woman. That's about it. They are neither imaginative nor challenging.
The swallowing part was no problem for me. I'd always loved that, starting with the first time I'd done it when I was a teenager. For some reason, I just loved cum.
The ass thing was a little more of a challenge though. I'd done it a couple of times, and it was "okay". For some reason though, I was never able to relax enough to really enjoy it. But I tried—honest I did.
I'd never been with another woman. It had never even been a fantasy of mine. But I was convinced I could do it if I had to—for the right man, and with the right woman. In fact, I must confess that I just couldn't see the big deal about it. The thought of it didn't turn me on, but it didn't repulse me either.
When the subject of sex first came up in one of my chats with Glen, I didn't hesitate to recite my creed to him, "If my lover wants it, and it doesn't hurt me, then why not do it?"
His response puzzled me. "Dee, you said that very casually, but I'd really like you to take a few minutes and think about it. I'm going to go up and take a quick shower. When I come back, if you say it again, I'll take you at your word. But you might want to consider adding some caveats to that statement. There are some very strange and weird and perverted sexual appetites out there. And you never know, my own might just fall into one of those categories."
While he was away from his computer, I did what he asked. I thought about all of the pictures I'd seen on porn sites, and things I'd heard of people doing. He was right. There were some things that I wouldn't want to do—no, that I wouldn't do, period. As I pondered them though, I made a conscious decision to keep my list of caveats as short as possible, exempting only those things I found most repulsing. I didn't want to stifle my lover's creativity or restrict his freedom to explore new things. I liked variety and surprises too much for that.
When he returned, I listed for him those things I felt I had to exempt: Scat games of any kind, sex with animals, sex with minors, sex with dead people, and anything resulting in serious injury.
After giving me a big "Bravo", he asked if I was sure I didn't want to add anything else to the list. I couldn't think of any, so I told him "No". And then I asked him a question, "Why, what do you like that I might want to add to the list?"
He just laughed and said, "That's hardly the point. It would please me very much if you didn't add anything. But you may wish later that you had. I think it's time that we begin discussing a face to face meeting."
"You don't even know what I look like."
"Dee, I don't care what you look like. But if you care what I look like, I'll send you a picture of myself—and yes, with all of my clothes on lol".
I pondered that for a few seconds before saying, "I'm tall at 5'10", and a bit overweight, but not too much. I'm not obese or anything—just a few extra pounds around the midsection and butt. I have shoulder-length light brown hair (dyed), and blue eyes." And then I hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "And 36Ds, if you're interested." God! I couldn't believe I just typed that.
"You sound delicious. I'm 6'1", 195, black hair (not dyed lol), blue eyes, not in the best physical shape of my life, but I do work out everyday, so I'm not too flabby. Oh, and 6.5" thick, if you're interested lol."
"That's good enough for me." I said, "I don't need to see a picture of you."
"Nor I you. Now, do you feel that we've reached a point in our relationship where we can discuss meeting, or would you rather give it more time?"
After only a few seconds of thinking about that, I answered, "No, I'm ready for that." Of course, that was a bold-faced lie. I wasn't ready for that—didn't know if I'd ever be. But I did want to meet him, ready or not. And I knew that he only lived two hundred miles from me, so it wouldn't be that difficult. That made the whole thing almost too real—almost surreal.
Before I knew it, we had a date. We were going to meet for dinner at a nice steak house in North Dallas. It was only a forty-five minute drive for me, but over twice that far for him. He didn't seem to mind though. "How will I know you?" I asked him.
"Wear black. I don't care what. I'll be in tan slacks, white shirt, and a gray sport coat. Whoever gets there first will wait at the door."
And so we met. He was waiting at the door when I arrived. He wasn't a handsome man, but his looks pleased me greatly. He was ordinary—just like me.
Our conversation was no different in person than it had been online, except that his deep-set eyes seemed to penetrate my soul. They made me feel warm and special and sexy and appreciated. And when he told me I was beautiful, it made me feel beautiful.
It wasn't until the waiter brought the small tray containing the check that I got my first taste of what being with Glen was going to be like. He leaned over the table, glanced at the check, then peered into my eyes, his massaging my heart, "Dee, I want you to get up and go to the lady's room. Remove your panties and bring them to me."
I heard what he said, but it took me several seconds to realize that he wasn't kidding. He was absolutely serious. I returned his stare, questioning him, but he never wavered. He was simply waiting for me to comply, and the look in his eyes showed no hint of doubt that I would. So I did.
When I returned from the lady's room, my panties wadded up in my hand, I gave them to him in a way that I hoped no one else would see them. But instead of putting them in his pocket as I expected, he held them up and let them dangle from his fingers. I felt my face flush even more than it already was as he casually let them slide from his fingers and onto the check tray.
And then, just as casually, he took a small roll of money from his pocket and peeled off some bills, placing them on top of my panties. Without speaking, he got up and offered me his hand, escorted me to my car, kissed me on the cheek, and said "We're going to get along just fine. Drive carefully on your way home." And then he was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I admit it. I wanted to fuck Glen. I'd never had anyone take control of me the way he had done. I'd never felt helpless to refuse a man something. And I'd never had a man make such an odd request of me, especially with that look in his eyes that told me he knew I was going to obey. Gawd! That was just too hot for words. Yes . . . hell yes . . . I wanted to fuck him. I readily admit it.
Our second meeting was even more intense. Again, I did as he wanted. I went without panties under my slacks. It was a different restaurant, Bar-B-Q this time, but in North Dallas again. And again, he was waiting for me just outside the door. But instead of going inside immediately, he took my hand and led me around the corner. "I want you to give me an appetizer." He said.
"An appetizer?"
"Yes, I want you to put your hand inside your slacks, dip your fingers inside yourself, and let me taste you."
I was stunned, but without any conscious effort on my part, my hand obeyed him, my eyes held by his the entire time. Even as my slickened fingers slid between his lips and he sucked them, I couldn't think of anything other than how sexy and alive he made me feel.
We ate, chatted casually, and then he walked me to my car. This time, he kissed me lightly on the lips. "Drive carefully." And then he was gone.
Now though, I didn't just want to fuck Glen. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to take me—to control me—to make me his. I'd never felt that before. I'd never wanted to give up control of myself to someone—totally submit to someone. But that is how I felt. I was his for the taking, and it excited me beyond words that he knew it—that he had known it from the start—even before I did.
~~~~~~~~~~~
During our online chat the next night, I didn't have to tell Glen how I felt—what I wanted. He already knew. "Dee, you are going to accompany me to a party Saturday night. You'll wear white slacks, black belt, black low-cut pullover, plain black choker, white socks and white sneakers—no bra, no panties . . . oh, and shave my pussy for me. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
I wanted to hesitate, to get upset, to refuse him, but I couldn't. My mind was still whirling with what he'd just said . . . my pussy . . . shave MY pussy for me. "Yes, Sir." I said obediently.
"Good girl." And then he told me to park my car at the mall in North Dallas and he'd pick me up from there. I didn't see him online again prior to our date.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Jessica, our hostess, met us at the door. She offered her cheek to Glen, and he kissed it politely. And then she looked at me, boldly eying me from head to toe. "Nice", she said to Glen. "And nice tits too. May I?"
I couldn't believe my ears. But that was nothing compared to the shock I got when Glen leaned closer, slid his hand around my waist, and whispered, "Don't move." And then he said to her, "Please, be my guest."
She locked her eyes on mine, daring me to resist as she tugged my shirt from under the waistband of my slacks and slid her hands under it. As she cupped my breasts and kneaded them with her fingers, I turned my head and looked at Glen. His eyes commanded me not to protest. "Very nice. Is she shaven?" She asked Glen.
"Of course, but I haven't had the pleasure yet."
She raised an eyebrow, and then said to me, "You're a lucky girl. Take care not to disappoint him." She released my breasts and slid her hands from under my top. "Enjoy the party and please, consider my home your own . . . both of you."
And then Glen whispered to me, "Tuck your shirt in. You did fine. I'm very proud of you."
After that shocking and very intense beginning, the rest of the party was actually rather boring. It was just a party. People were gathered into small groups, laughing, telling jokes, catching up on happenings since they'd last seen each other, but nothing out of the ordinary at all. I was relieved by the generic nature of it. Still, I was tense and nervous throughout our two hours there. I was still waiting for the next shoe to drop. I never did.
I was back in my car before I allowed my self to take a deep breath. "Holy shit! What the fuck was that?"
That night, as I lay in my bed and stared up into the darkness, I was finally able to answer my own question. "Hot! That's what it was."