I have received lots of interesting E-Mails from readers of "My Day of Roses" stories. One, however, from a guy named George sent from Kavala Greece was especially captivating. It looked like a form message advertising himself. Out of curiosity I answered his email and was intrigued and excited by what he said to me in follow up letters. His letters were honest without exaggerations, and I began to trust him. He has two URL sites that have pictures of him. One URL has great nude pictures of his classically beautiful penis, which appeared to be the perfect size even though it looked much larger than what I was used to seeing.
Inspired by his letters I decided to write a story about my character Elisabeth corresponding with this pussy hound and see where it would take them.
Then I said, "Hell no." I have been dedicating myself to Elisabeth, a fictional character of my imagination, and it was about time I should write an erotic story about myself, yes me, Rosehip. I'll save Elisabeth for a later story. This one is mine!
Reading many of the stories on the Internet, I realize I am "a babe in the woods" compared to the women who have had so many erotic experiences. My husband is probably average in the way he is endowed, and I hunger for the more gifted men so gloriously described in many of these stories. Since he is ten years older than me, he has also slipped away from most sexual activities, but I am still young, lusty, and looking for adventure with the "studs" described in many of Elisabeth's experiences
I continued my correspondence with George asking him questions about his conquests and getting back beautiful information that I was incorporating into the story. This was fun, and I enjoyed corresponding with George, especially when he graphically answered my questions about his affairs. Each reading would turn on my pussy juices, and I found myself masturbating when I thought of being with him.
In my letter to George I started writing about personal things about myself I have never divulged to anyone. Reading back over my letters to George, I was able to get a clear picture of myself, and I was not happy with what I read.
I realized I desperately wanted an affair with a well-endowed man, and I did not have the courage to seek a local man. Another consideration was that if I had sex with a large man, Hubby would feel my relaxed or stretched vagina. I finally realized that since I was no longer having sex with my husband, my fear was academic.
The only local man I might have considered was the minister of our Church, who would come to the house and talk to us. One afternoon he came by and caught me in my shorts; hubby was at his stockbroker, and the two of us were alone. I noticed that during the conversation about the choir, his bulge appeared to get larger, especially when he looked at my legs. I did cross and uncross them many time hoping he would get the message. I could tell by his voice he did. His wife was a sweet soul who was cursed with fat legs and thighs. I figured it would take very little effort on my part to get him to make a play for me.
Before I could set something up with the minister, he took a sabbatical for the summer to attend classes at his seminary.
Needless to say when I found out I said "Oh Shit"
Then I began to think the man who made me hot for the minister was George, and it was George that I wanted to be with, but he lived far away in Greece.
Little did I comprehend at the time that my fantasy story would turn in to reality with my Greek E-mail friend.
When the urge to be with George became so great that I would "cum" reading his letters, I knew I had to somehow get to Greece and personally see the man I had decided was my own "Greek God."
I finally worked up the courage; I would fly to Greece and be with him. I knew what I wanted to happen, but you know it doesn't always work out the way you want.
I made my first phone call to George and asked if he would be open to a visit from me. His answerer was an enthusiastic "Yes." He was as anxious to see me as I was to see him. We set a date, and he said he could get a week's vacation or all the time we needed. I sold some of my stocks and made air and hotel arrangements. I told Hubby I was going to a writers' convention. Hubby and I had not had sex in ages, and I suspected he had feelings about my trip. He did not however, ask questions and wished me a pleasant trip.
In past mailing I told George I could be old enough to be his Mother. He said he loved older women dearly and told me a story about a 61-year old widow he had an affair with. It was a beautiful story that I am looking forward to writing in the future. So early on he knew about our age difference. I am one of the fortunate women who happen to have young age genes, and I have been told I look much younger than I am.
In these mailing I had included recent pictures of myself, and he seemed quite pleased with what he saw. With all the pictures we had sent each other, we knew exactly what we looked like.
I arrived one day earlier than I told George so that I could catch up from jet lag, have my hair done, and get a first-class facial. I needed the break after an eleven-hour flight to Athens and then an hour flight to Kavala in northeast Greece.
When George arrived at the Asterias hotel in Kavala, I was waiting for him in the lobby. I could see that he was just like he described himself, five-foot eleven, a handsome man in his mid-thirties. His hair was brown and black, and he had a beautiful tan. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt, with a couple of buttons open at the neck, which allowed his ample hairy chest and large biceps a maximum exposure. I knew my five foot seven height and 145 pound weight would make us a nice looking couple, that is if you did not examine me too closely.