I couldn't believe I was doing this. No matter what I said to reassure myself, nothing would make me believe that I was ACTUALLY doing this. I had always been the good girl, the one who went without, the one who put others first at her own expense. I had spent so many years bottling up my deepest desires that I almost couldn't remember them. But not anymore. Not this girl. No way, no sir.
Technically, I was cheating. The papers weren't even drawn up yet, and here I was, fully contemplating a lusty afternoon chock full of sin. Hell, contemplating wasn't even the right word anymore. The decision had been made and here I was. I had taken a long time coming to terms with this; I had always sworn to myself that I would never cheat. It was a matter of pride for me. I always promised myself that if it ever got so bad that I was tempted to stray I would just leave first. Well, it got that bad a while ago and I still didn't leave...or stray. I had been stuck in a terrible situation simply because it was all I had known for years and I was too scared to face the world on my own. I had thought I was lucky to have anyone who wanted to be with me at all, so I might as well just learn to deal with a husband who had no libido and couldn't care if he ever touched me.
I was always self-conscious about my weight. I had convinced myself that I was less than human, that I didn't deserve to be treated like everyone else, even though it was all I ever wanted. I felt that nobody could see me, all they saw was my body. All I wanted was to get married like a normal girl, prove that I could be wanted just like anybody else. I was so determined that I sold myself short at a very young age to the first boy, and I do mean boy, who was ever kind to me. Now most people would have lasted about six months to a year in my marriage, but I was a fighter, I was determined to make it work. So I buried myself in my marriage, associated myself only as a married woman. I gave up my hopes, my dreams and my fantasies in order to settle down and play mommy to a boy with a temper and a selfish streak that could rival any five-year-old. I spent so many years living with not being wanted as the extremely sexual person I had always been that I just sank deeper and deeper into my mommy role and gained even more weight while losing more self-esteem.
I was happy in my rut for seven years. I was content to live that way forever, numb and delusional. I was married. Someone wanted me. Well, maybe not wanted, but he sure needed me. He needed me to do everything for him, and I did it happily because it was great to feel needed. I thought I was happy until about seven months ago. That's when I found Literotica. That's what led me to him.
It wasn't right away, mind you. I had a lot of fun for a long time, but in a safe and removed way. Through the computer. I started out trying my hand at one of my favorite things: erotica. I had always wanted to write, and when I decided to goof around in secret one night, I realized that I wasn't half-bad. I didn't win any awards or anything, but they certainly got the job done and left me feeling something I hadn't felt in years: Sexy. I felt sexy again, perhaps truly for the first time. I felt sexy and I was ready to play.
I discovered that I had a little bit of a secret naughty streak in me. I began to make many online friendships through Lit, mostly innocent, some not so innocent, and all in pure fun. I found out that there were men in the world who not only thought that a bigger woman was attractive but would treat her like a princess, a goddess even. I began dressing better, taking care of myself. I started wearing make up again and giving a shit about what I looked like. I hadn't felt that good about myself in....well, ever. It didn't matter that these were nameless, faceless men who I never intended to do anything with. Most of them lived on opposite sides of the country, others on opposite sides of the world. All that mattered to me was that I was having fun and I felt sexy. I felt so damn sexy that I started realizing that I was getting a raw deal. I knew now that I could not go on in a funk for the rest of my life. I couldn't continue feeling rejected by the one person who should want me more than anyone else.
When I finally met him, I had already decided that it was time to start leaving. In the beginning he was just like all the others. A few flirtatious comments here, some sexy discussions there. He was twelve years older than me, and I had always found older men sexy. At one point he disappeared for such a long gap that I figured he had gone the way of so many flirts before him, on to greener pastures when it was obvious I wasn't up for meeting in "real life." What surprised me was that not only did he come back, but he came back with a vengeance. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was going to be my friend, and he was going to make me smile. He would tell me jokes and flirt shamelessly, just to get me to laugh with him. Whenever I was down, he was always there. Even if he couldn't be online at just the right time, he always managed to send me a quick note letting me know that he was thinking of me. The only flaw that I could find in this man was that he was married...happily. Now that sounds awful, I know, but I had met so many men who were just as lonely and depressed as I was. I had started justifying the possibility of hooking up with someone in the future if it ever came to it, but I always figured that it would be with a man who was in the same situation...married, but barely. Someone in need of comfort and touch, someone starving just like me.
This man was not like that. He had made more for himself than that. He had recreated his life in such a way that left no room for depression and emotional starvation. When his life had started heading south, he changed everything and was reborn from the ashes like a phoenix. There was no self-doubt, no aching hunger and need. He was a proud, strong MAN. He took what he wanted; he went from a bad marriage to being wonderfully happy. I had no idea how to relate to that, other than sheer idolatry. I was in awe of this man, and every time we spoke it only grew more and more. He was like nothing I had ever experienced. Was he a big flirt? You betcha. Did he think I was sexy? Damn straight. Did we have unbelievably arousing discussions in an open, frank way? Yes we did.
Perhaps I enjoyed his company so much because I knew I was safe. He was happy, he was satisfied. He liked to flirt unmercifully, but it was always in fun. I could let my guard down a bit; I didn't need to always be on for him, I could just be myself. He could see the real me and still want to be my friend. In one hand I idolized him as the ideal I would love to someday become, and in the other hand I simply idolized him as the ideal prototype for what I wanted to find in a man. So of course, being a typical woman, these feelings didn't last long before they meshed together into simply wanting HIM. Knowing full well that I would never have him, it didn't stop me from fantasizing. Looking back, it was ridiculous, actually. I admired him for being a wonderful husband, yet I secretly wanted to be the one he cracked for. I didn't necessarily want to keep him for myself, although there were plenty of fantasies like that also, but I wanted a piece of him. A piece of that wonderful man who made me feel unbelievable. I wanted to have a taste of what a real man was like, so much so that I was willing to forget about just why he was so perfect to begin with. I wanted to taste this man so much that I didn't care about anything else.
Now, that being said, I never brought it up. It was my own private desire, and I didn't want to ruin things by suggesting it. I was still happy to have my friend, even if that was all he would ever be. Deep down, however, I wanted him to want me. I wanted to make him hurt for me, to ache deep down, to feel like his life wouldn't be complete until he lost himself inside my body for hours. I wanted to be the one thing in his life that was missing, even if it was only for an afternoon.
We continued flirting in that way people do when they are really fishing for clues as to what the other person responds to. Throwing out a spanking joke here, a blow job joke there, paying attention to what got a rise. We eventually cybered a few times, and after every time I was left even more in awe with this man's sheer sexiness and magnetism. I don't even mean his looks, I mean his complete presence. Everything about him left me craving more. By this point, I was completely sprung on him. There were other men around who I still talked to, but I honestly found myself using them more as a reminder of how unstable and unreliable the entire online thing could be. I wanted to protect myself; I wanted to keep myself removed from the situation. I knew that I was at serious risk of falling for him and I didn't want to get hurt. It was easier to keep myself surrounded by the nameless and faceless flirts who were obviously not going to remember you in a few days. I was used to disappointment, it was the glimmer of hope that stung.
So it was during one of these feel-out flirty sessions that the subject of meeting in person came up. I'm not quite sure how we got on the subject, really. We had always both avoided that issue. Me for not wanting to risk losing him, him for not wanting to come off like all the other predictable forgettables. Things had been heating up between us, more than I had ever thought possible. He made me want to do things that had never tempted me before. He made me feel safe that I could show him anything and he would be enthralled. I mean, this man has seen me completely nude and wanted more! I have never, no matter how flirty or sexy I felt, been brave enough to show anyone online my entire body. A breast here, a pussy shot there, but never the whole package. I may have found more confidence and self esteem recently, but I treasured them too much to throw it away by risking showing that to the wrong person. All it would take would be one insensitive comment and I would be off the wagon again, crying and ashamed. He made me secure enough to take that risk. He watched me doing things that nobody else has ever seen and told me that I had no idea how sexy and arousing I was. In layman's terms, he's a mother-fucking keeper! When he suggested our meeting in real life, once I realized he wasn't teasing or joking, I jumped at the chance to make this fantasy a reality.
When he learned that he would need to be traveling for work within a few hours of where I lived, he suggested that I come and visit him in the hotel he was set up in. Normally I would have felt apprehensive about this; we had never met face to face, I hadn't been with anyone new in eleven years, and he only had one day free. One day. This was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity. I could meet him and experience the most intense passion I had ever felt, but after a few hours it would all be over and I would need to go back to my everyday life...without him. He would go back to his happy life, and the most I could hope for was to keep him as an online friend. Even with all those marks against it, I had never felt so compelled to just take what I wanted and damn the consequences. When I agreed and began to make arrangements, he reassured me that we could just have dinner and that he wouldn't be expecting anything I wasn't comfortable giving. I just chuckled and told him that I didn't know about him, but I was certainly going to be expecting him to deliver.
So here I was, three hours from home and looking for a hotel in a town I'd never been to before. We decided that today would be the best for the both of us because he only had a few early morning meetings and the rest of his day was free. We'd planned on grabbing some lunch, maybe going out and seeing the sights, and hopefully if all went well ending up back in his hotel room. I couldn't wait, and I was getting so excited that my heart was beating in my throat. A few minutes later I found the hotel, pulled into the parking lot and got out my cell phone to give him a ring.
