For Perry -- because you understand me, accept me, and take me to new heights...
* * * * *
I'm sitting here as horny as I think I ever have been. Perry and I haven't managed to hook up for almost a month now and that is WAY over my time limit of celibacy. He's off in Oregon on a much needed and well-deserved vacation and I'm home tending to my job and kids. BUT, he'll be home in a few days and by the end of the weekend we'll have had time and opportunity to satisfy the itch that only he can scratch.
Let me back up and tell you a bit about myself, and about Perry. We are both attractive white suburban professionals. I met Perry around 8 months ago on internet personal ads. We did the usual routine of anonymous email, chat, then phone, then we met for lunch in a public place on a crisp day just before last fall. We talked - as we had before we met - of life, of jobs and careers, of children, of our internet personals dating experiences (that is a whole different story!). As we walked away from the restaurant, we came to where our paths split and he asked to see me again and kissed me before leaving to finish some errands in the area -- I left to shop for a coat in the Old Navy at the end of the street. A few minutes later as I was trying on a winter coat, I spot Perry entering the store and looking around. He approached and comes right up, and says "I'm really not stalking you, I just needed another kiss from you", kisses me, turns and leaves. Here I find a nice normal guy, good dad, successful businessman - who is also a romantic! We dated for awhile, though our lives kept us apart quite a bit, then I moved on to someone that I thought was Mr. Right and who had the time for a relationship.
Now, you're sitting there saying "what the hell is this, WHERE is the eroticism?" right? Well, as the months wore on and it became increasingly clear that Mr. Right was really Mr. Wrong, Perry and I had always stayed in contact. What I had discovered during our brief dating was that Perry was hung like a fucking horse - no exaggeration. I'm 39 and have been around the block a bit, but I have never in my life seen or experienced a cock as big as Perry's. Not only was he hung as well or better than what porno stars I'd seen, he knew what the hell to do with that weapon of his. He became known in my circle of girlfriends as "Monster Man". Most men that know how to fuck are no good at foreplay or eating you out, and vice versa; Perry could and would do it all very well and no, you can not have his phone number!
As we talked over months of not seeing one another, we discussed many everyday things - and also began to talk more openly about our sexual tastes. It would seem that my mild-mannered suburban businessman had experienced quite a wide range of sexual escapades - many of them scenes that had fueled my fantasies for years. Threesomes, both mfm and fmf, swinging, swap parties, etc. Never judge a book by its cover my friends! We have been discussing exploring that alternative lifestyle together and that has served to only fuel both my lust for him and my trust in him.
The last time we got together about a month ago it was after many false starts and cancellations due to other obligations. We had talked about this session so much and had both been so primed and ready for it that frustration had taken its toll. Not to mention that we really hadn't seen one another in the flesh in 5 months. I was at first shy and reserved - not my normal self. Perry always knows how to calm and soothe me - make me feel comfortable, safe, and secure; and as we continue on our path of discovery and exploration that is priceless to me.
I had arrived at his house dressed for a booty call most definitely. Short black skirt, tight white button-down shirt not all that buttoned up, with underneath a pure white embroidered VS bra, thong, garter belt, stockings and 3" black heels - a nice contrast of virginal and slutty. Sitting in this nice suburban living room sipping a cold drink I begin to feel my inhibitions loosening as the alcohol begins to work it's magic. Perry takes the drink from me when I am just the right amount buzzed, grabs my hand and the car keys and pulls me out to the car in the driveway. I have an exhibitionist streak in me that I have only indulged a small bit -- letting my skirt ride up high on the highway knowing that truckers are keeping pace with me to look at my very nice and much-complimented legs. Perry is privy to all of my desires and he gently but insistently pushes my limits because that is what I want and need him to do.
He pulls out of the driveway and I ask where we are going; "does it matter?" is his response and I know I am in for one hell of a day. He heads up I-95, a major north/south corridor with tons of 18-wheelers sitting high enough up to see into passenger cars. The music blares, I close my eyes, lean the seat back and drift on my nice buzz in the early summer day. Perry moves his hand to stroke my arm and relax me even more, leaning in so that his mouth is just touching my ear and he says "lose the panties, now". I look into his eyes and see that his much more aggressive side has emerged and I know to follow a command when it's given. As I lift my ass off the seat to wiggle out of the panties I notice the truck next to us and know that the driver can see exactly what I am doing. Just the thought of being exposed, even if only momentarily, to this total stranger causes a wetness that I know is going to eventually leave a nasty looking spot on the cloth seat (what the hell, it's a rental anyway).
Having followed the command I sink back into the seat and close my eyes again relaxing. I feel a hand softly stroking my left thigh, knowing that Perry has one hand on the wheel and has both eyes staring at my long smooth legs encased in the silky material and he's thinking about how they will feel later along his face as it's buried between my legs. He alternates between those slow soothing strokes lulling me into complacency with lightly dragging his nails across my skin; the contrast jolting me like a bolt of electricity from the tips of his fingers right to my clit. There is nothing "fast" about Perry -- he believes that the destination is not nearly as important as the journey and so he continues to tease me as we hurl up the highway - knowing full well that my pussy is now slick and feeling the need of his hand, his fingers, his mouth, and ultimately his cock filling me.
Small circles he paints on my skin with his fingers, edging ever closer to where I need them most. My breathing becomes faster as his fingers move higher, holding my breath when he finally reaches just above my stockings and his warm smooth fingers come in direct contact with my flesh at the top of my thighs. I push my ass forward on the seat -- trying to bring my clit into contact with them -- he is not going to allow my satisfaction to come that quickly. I keep my eyes closed, not knowing what he will do next, or where -- the anticipation heightening my need. I jump when I feel his index finger tracing around the edges of my nipple; the bra and shirt are thin and I know that he can see the dark areola and the now hardening nipple despite the heat of the full sun.
POP - there goes one button of the shirt, POP - second. Perry uses his fingers to slip the buttons through their holes, leaving the shirt open to the waist, wafting on the breeze from my open window. Drifting along the highway, the combination of alcohol buzz and unfulfilled lust and I am now exposed for anyone to see - I want them to see. He knows it and is going to give me what I need.
He again begins his slow dance of alternating smooth calming strokes and jolting nail dragging - only this time it's along my breasts, making my nipples strain against the thin material of the flimsy bra. My chest heaving now, the want is killing me, the want of feeling skin on skin, his hands cupping my tits - pulling at my nipples roughly, making them extended and begging for his warm wet mouth sucking on them roughly. "Remove the bra, now" he uses a commanding tone that he knows will override any protest from me. Enveloped in a cloud of lust I am faintly aware of the whine of a diesel engine next to my ear as I remove the bra and add it to the pile of discarded clothing on the floorboard. Leaning back to await my next instruction I turn my head to the side and up, spotting the trucker high in his cab, eyes now locked on my exposed tits while he talks into his CB radio.
