From The Web

I walked into the hotel café , as usually late, as usually slightly flustered from all the things that I managed to not do to get here in time, but also with a sense of more serious trepidation mixed with excitement gnawing at my throat.

Not every day after all one meets a person with whom one shared the wildest of sexual fantasies. In fact, I have never done such a thing before and even in this instance I was very unsure of committing to that meeting. Still, if somebody makes a thousand mile detour on a transatlantic trip just to see you (it it can be called seeing), it is, perhaps, worth taking the risk.

I took ages getting ready, selecting clothes and preening myself to make the desired impression. Obviously, most of it was to do with making the most of my one asset that she seemed totally obsessed with: thus, I was wearing a low-cut, silky, dark red, boned basque under my long line black suit jacket (an nothing in between the two). My breasts, pushed up and forwards, seemed even bigger than normally (and at 40E they normally seemed pretty big). I put a silver pendant with a glossy black gem in it, to rest just inside my cleavage and I made sure my hair framed my face and fell onto my neck and décolletage in suitably attractive way.

Jeans and mid-heeled ankle boots were a safer choice, while make up enhancing my lips and high cheekbones made my face look just a tad sharper and more sophisticated.

So, I walked into the almost empty café of the Edinburgh hotel, just about on time for our meeting, selected a seat in one of the further-away booths with leather banquettes and ordered a coffee. She didn't seem to be there, but then I didn't know what she looked like. She had seen my photos, or at least photos of most of me, while all I had from her was words and descriptions. I looked around, drunk some of my coffee, contemplated an idea of ordering a dram to steady my nerves as smoking wasn't permitted any more, and just when I decided to go for it, despite it being hardly a lunchtime, she walked in.

I knew it was her immediately, something in the walk, in the look, in the way her glances darted around the room made it very clear. When I smiled to her without getting up from my seat, she stopped mid stride for a second, and then, much slower, walked towards my table.

I could have a good look at her as she was approaching: slim, short woman, looking at least a few years younger than the early forties she claimed she was in, short, well cut brown hair, executive skirt suit in pale grey, shapely legs and high heels that made her look taller than she was. She had lovely lips, sensual and almost pouting in a natural way, and when she opened them to smile I could see the perfect American teeth and a tip of a tongue came out to in a quick dash to lick them, quickly but unmistakably. I instantly remembered the emails we exchanged, I remembered her telling me how her mouth and tongue would touch and caress and worship my breasts and this memory changed my nervousness into a jolt of powerful sexual excitement, a hot spasm in my pussy that was so strong I had to catch my breath. I unbuttoned the top button of my jacket so when she came over she could see quite a bit of the ensemble I was wearing.

It was only then that she became real for me: it was only then that the words that I have seen on the screen became connected to a living, breathing person that was just now standing in front of me and leaning over to give me a light kiss on the cheek. She lingered a little bit and I could smell her perfume, something light and florally fresh, in a complete contrast to the heaviness of my sultry Boucheron. I could see her looking down into my cleavage and she whispered to my ear:

'Hi, darling. I hope you are not disappointed, 'cause you are everything I hoped for.'

I smiled and as she sat down across the table from me, I said:

'No, you look just like I imagined you'.

I did imagine her, I have been imagining her for weeks, months now, as we exchanged heated messages after we met on one of the adult chat and dating sites that Internet abounds in. She was first to get in touch, sent me a carefully enthusiastic note about the photo of my tits I had in my profile, and I sensed a bit of an obsession there and responded with a strong, sexual, candid message which, apparently, left her "breathless, panting and soaking wet". I sent her more photos later, she told me how she "used" them, at one point I was getting worried that she was becoming slightly obsessed - but who wouldn't think that greeted by message saying "I love your tits, I really love them, I keep imagining toughing them, and sucking them, and licking them, and every time I look at them I get incredibly aroused, my juices flowing, my cunt throbbing. I have to admit I masturbated eight times yesterday thinking about you. Your last message was such a turn on that today I came at the touch of my own hand on my nipple just imagining that I could stroke those things of yours. I was in a meeting the other day and suddenly I remembered your pictures and I thought everybody must have realised how turned on I became, I had to go to a restroom and relieve myself and I think somebody in the next stall must have heard me moan but I didn't care."

Her messages turned me on, I have spent more time playing with my boobs recently than probably ever before and she took a favourite place in many of may masturbation fantasies. It was nice to have a real feedback! Now she was here, and sitting in front of me, looking poised and confident with her cup of coffee.

'I love the way you dressed today.' she said leaning across the table. She reached out with her hand, a small, slim hand with mobile, finely boned fingers and short, French manicured nails, and picked up my pendant. She played with it a bit, but the tips of her fingers kept brushing the exposed part of my breasts and I could feel them tremble.

I was getting incredibly excited now. The whole history of our exchanges came flooding back to me and I could feel my pussy getting hotter, and becoming wet and tense. My breasts, confined by the tight cups of the basque, were also getting noticeably needy. My nipples were erect and pushing the material, and I could feel the whole tits swelling up with arousal, getting hot, pink, puffed up, almost uncomfortably aching for a touch.

I swept away the lapels of my jacket slightly and straightened my back so Kate could see the state of my nipples, hard and straining against the material. She gasped when she saw them and said breathlessly:

'Ooh, this is....Mel, this is too much for me. I can't wait to get my hands on them...'.

I got hold of her hand and moved it towards my left nipple. Her touch almost made me jump, and I had to try hard to suspend a cry, but all I managed is to turn it into a low moan and a sigh. She squeezed the nipple and pulled at it, and I closed my eyes.

'Sit next to me please,' I asked. She moved round the table, and sat on my left, and then, without saying anything, slid her hand back under my jacket. It was now flat on my breast, stroking slowly, maddeningly, up and down, my nipple getting so hard that it felt like it was going to explode.

I was incredibly horny now, my breathing fast, my pussy drenched, my whole skin on fire. I wanted Kate to pull down my cups and lick and suck my nipples, just as she told me so many times he fantasised of doing, I wanted this enticing mouth of her on my tits, I wanted her to lick and pull and tug and lap, and nibble, and lick again.

Of course, we couldn't do it in a café of a 4 star hotel at 11 o'clock in the morning, but it was hard work not to try. I pushed her hand away and said:

'Stop, or I won't be able to hold myself together any more'. She did as asked and whispered:

'I can hardly hold myself together, baby'. I could feel her knee touching my leg and it was trembling. I put my hand on her thigh and slowly slid it under her skirt.

She was wearing hold-up stockings and I felt a jolt when I touched the strip on naked skin above the stocking's edge. I kept my hand there for a while and then reached higher, the tips of my fingers brushed the gusset of her knickers and as I touched it I could feel it was soaking wet.

There was some moisture on her inner thighs and when I gently pressed the gusset, she shuddered and pushed her hips towards me. I stroked her mound through the material, and then slid a finger underneath. She was shaven apart from a thin strip of hair and her pussy was hot and felt swollen. I run my finger along the slit and up towards her clit which, engorged and hard, was protruding from the labia.

She quickly closed her thighs on my hand, and whimpered 'Stop, or I'll cum now, please'. I removed my finger and then slid it in-between her labia, to where the juices were flowing from so copiously. She opened her legs again and using two fingers now I rubbed the entrance to her pussy, then stroked lower, towards her arsehole, and probed it with just tips of my fingers.

I could feel the blood pulsating in her sex and, as I returned higher up and slipped my fingers inside, the walls of her pussy contracted on them. Her hips were rocking gently now and she was holding the edge of the table with both her hands, her upper torso stiff, her mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. She looked incredibly sexy, desire overtaking her inhibitions, biting her mouth and seemingly doing everything to stop herself from loud moaning. There was nobody in our direct line of sight, but the waiter that served was glancing occasionally towards us and a half smile was appearing on his lips. I winked to him and hi averted his gaze just as I removed my hand and brought it to my mouth for my first taste of Kate's juices. She tasted of pure sex to me, salty, musky, almost cinnamony flavour and I licked my fingers as she stared at me in apt concentration.

'Should we go to your room?' I asked. She nodded. I buttoned my jacket up and went to the bar to pay, and she followed me as I walked out of the café. We went to the lift, and she pressed the button for the 6th floor. There was nobody else in the lift and I used this opportunity to unbutton my jacket again and rub my huge aching breasts, squeeze nipples and run my fingers along my lips. She was standing by the wall, her breathing fast and shallow, and when I pulled the cups of my corset down to expose my nipples she let out a loud moan and bit her lower lip.

My tits were showing signs of my own excitement, visibly swollen, much too big to fit in my own hands, areolae raised by at least half a centimetre, skin flushed pink and my normally quite flat nipples fully erect, painfully hard, sticking out like small strawberries, yearning for touch of her tongue and lips.

'I can't start now or I won't stop' Kate whispered and as the lift ground to halt at the sixth floor, I closed my jacket, leaving the bra cups down, and we almost run to the door of her room.

The door was hardly closed behind us when Kate reached frantically for me, my jacket fell down on the floor, my exposed tits now under her hands, she squeezed them both and then, still by the door, standing against the wall, she kissed my left nipple, very briefly, but then immediately started sucking it, her tongue wild and frantic around it, her soft lips caressing, her small, even, white, perfectly American teeth gently biting.

I was moaning now without restraint, my knees so soft I had to lean against the wall, my pussy pulsating as if I was about to cum, even though I never cum from breast play alone, and when Kate's hand closed on my right breast, and started squeezing and rubbing the nipple, her mouth still busy on the left one, her breathless moans heavier and louder I closed my eyes and just let her do what she wanted, and we slowly staggered together to the bedroom, I fell on the bed and pulled my trousers and boots off, now dressed only the wine-red basque as I never had put knickers on in the first place.

Kate was kneeling by the bed side, her mouth still busy on my breasts which seemed to become a magic centre of sensation for me, each of her licks and laps and sucks making me gasp in pleasure that wasn't so far off actual orgasm. She was like in a trance now, eyes closed, hair ruffled, the jacket of her suit gone, high heels kicked off, skirt crumpled up on her waist; both her hands busy together with her mouth on my super-sensitised tits which felt now even bigger than they really were, as if my whole body reduced itself to those quivering, swollen, erotically charged, massive globes of flesh, my tits were me at that moment.

My pussy was burning, I needed to cum now, and as she continued to flick her tongue across my nipples, pull them into her mouth, suck and nibble, then release to apply the flat of her tongue in slow, tantalizing licks, I reached down to my sopping wet, aching pussy. She must have noticed, despite her seeming concentration, because she pushed my hand away with surprising firmness.

'Please!' I begged. But she didn't relent, and kept my hand firmly pushed away, without touching me either.

'I want to fuck you,' she whispered into my ear, her hands still on my red-hot breasts, her tongue flicking round my earlobe, her teeth biting very slightly.

'Do if you can...' was all I could manage. She got up, leaving me supine on the bed and walked towards her wardrobe door, taking something from it. When she turned round, she looked at me and said:

'Don't touch your pussy, honey, I won't be a minute,' and disappeared into the bathroom. It took a lot of willpower from me not to reach to my dripping pussy and stroke my engorged clit, but I managed, whiling away the time caressing my swollen tits, pulling and pinching nipples. Kate came out of the bathroom in few minutes and I looked at her in utter astonishment.

She was now wearing only her buttoned shirt, white and smartly cut, with nothing underneath. She had small breasts, in fact all they seemed to be almost all nipples, and as I could clearly see the shape of her large, round, erect nipples, darker and protruding against the thin material.

But what astonished me was the strap-on she was wearing, sticking out from under the shirt, harness dark against the pale skin of her slim hips. I think I would have laughed hadn't I been so incredibly horny. I used a dildo very occasionally, but I wasn't one for the toys and the idea of a strap-on seemed utterly ridiculous for me: after all one could always fuck a man if one was after a cock, what was the point of using one of those? But now, my whole body on fire, I found the sight of this slight woman brandishing a fat cock - she must have remembered that I didn't care much for length, but liked girth! - strangely exciting. The strap on didn't seem ridiculous but desirable and I yearned to feel it inside me, to fill and stretch my aching pussy and bring so eagerly awaited release.

Kate strode purposefully towards me and I moved myself to the edge of the bed, opened my legs wide and pulled my feet towards my buttocks. She stopped for a moment, as to admire the view, and I pulled on my labia to reveal even more of my swollen, dripping, tense sex. She made a movement as she wanted to kneel in front of me but then quickly mounted me and simply, with a big push, slid the dildo inside my gaping, hot and wet pussy.

I shuddered with the impact:this really was a serious girth and it stretched the walls of my cunt deliciously, so the throbbing clit became even more engorged and sensitised. I gasped and as she leaned over and reached to my tits again, tugging the nipples almost roughly while the base of the dildo started to press and rub against my clit, I started to cum, then, immediately, and every thrust and every squeeze brought another wave of pleasure.

I wasn't sure if it was my nipples, my clit or my pussy that was the centre of the sensation, it seemed to move from place to place and as each contraction of orgasm shook my taut body I cried out, I screamed, I begged for more and Kate gave me more, hammered me hard; now almost forceful, getting rougher, and as my orgasm subsided, verging on painful.

She stopped for a while as I pushed her hands away but I could see a burning need for release in her flushed face, open mouth, panting breathing and as she withdrew and unstrapped her tool, I sat up and she stood by the bed, motionless but trembling slightly without a word.

I reached with my hands to her shirt and pulled it down, undoing top buttons and exposing her breasts. I knew about her breasts, but this was the first time I saw them. They were small, B size at the most, but topped with the most gorgeously swollen, luscious nipples, dark pink, thick and round, centred on large, raised, softly swollen areolae. I knew they were extremely sensitive and I was careful when I extended my tongue towards them.

I licked slowly, softly, with the flat of my tongue, then round, I tried to be as gentle as I could and nothing prepared me for the reaction I got. Kate's body went completely stiff for a fraction of a second and then started shaking violently, her eyes glazed over, the closed, her face was twisted in an expression of what could have been extreme pain or ecstasy, and she let out a piercing wail, threw her head backwards, then went floppy falling into my arms, clinging to me convulsively, pushing her hips against me even as her orgasm subsided, and now I didn't think, I lied her down on the bed and kneeled in front of her, spread her slim, muscular tights wide, looked, for the first time, at her shaven pussy, large clit still clearly visible, covered in wet, glistening, dripping juices, and I did what I fantasised of for all these weeks of our email exchanges, I dove and licked her, took her clit in my mouth and sucked on it, musky, salty, sweet at the same time, my tongue darted from the clit to her pussy and back, and as I licked around her clit, faster and faster, I could feel her body tensing again.

"Oooh, ooooooh, my god, I am going to cum again, oooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it, it's so fucking good, you are killing me, oooooh, yess, yesss, yessssssss!!!!" she screamed and as the first spasm of her next orgasm took hold, I could feel squirts of liquid shooting out onto my face and into my mouth. I always doubted the reality of female ejaculation, but here it was, right in my face so to speak, and I drunk it, lapped it up eagerly, I liked it more than semen (which I like too!), and I was getting excited and hot again.

I normally don't cum in quick succession, but were were on some kind of a roll, here, I pulled Kate up and sat in front of her, pushing myself close so our pussies could rub against each other, I could feel her clit throbbing near mine, our juices mingling, my tits pushing against her, her mouth on my nipple, her hand on my other tit again, and as we rocked together, I could feel a climax rising in me, and she started to cum too, another gush of fluid squirting onto my pussy, my cunt dissolving into pure sweetness.

We lied in each other's arms later, slowly stroking, gently kissing, without a word, her head on my chest, when I felt some cool drops on my breasts and when I looked at Kate, there were tears on her face, but she was smiling too.

'What's up, lovely?' I asked, concerned that she had some regrets after what, for me, was one of the best sex sessions I have ever experienced.

'I am just so happy. I didn't know this was possible.' she answered. I knew she was going to go back to the States, to her job, her children, her, apparently uncaring, husband. We might meet again, and if not, who knows, one day she might have enough confidence and courage to find somebody else, some woman who could love her as she needed to be loved.

And it would help if she had big tits, too.