A Sense Of Touch:
About a week after my incredibly exciting encounter with Marie and Jessica, I received an interesting text on my phone one morning which simply said. 'Meet me at the coffee shop, any lunchtime this week.' It was straight to the point, and it had been signed: Ms Terry, which amused me, just a little, since I knew it was from my beautiful, 'mystery,' lover. The one who had declined to give me her name, because she thought it was a little bit more, 'dirty,' and exciting to have sex with someone who was nameless.
She promised she would tell me her name the next time we met, but truthfully, given the circumstances of our first meeting and sexual encounter, I half expected never to hear from her again. However, here she was, setting up another meeting, and I have to say I was looking forward to seeing her, hopefully for more of the same.
I glanced at my wrist watch, it was just after 11am. If I left now, I could be there by 12.30pm I thought.
'Why wait I reasoned?'
and so I pretended I wasn't feeling well, signed out of work, and drove home. I drove back into the city, sticking to the speed limit, and parked the car in my driveway.
I lived near the city centre, and despite being so close to the centre it was actually a quiet residential area. It helped that it was a, 'dead end street,' or what the French and Brits call a, 'Cul de sac,' so there was no constant movement of traffic passing through, plus the old solid, granite built houses were well insulated from the noise of the traffic a few streets over in the centre. I've heard it described as an unexpected haven of tranquillity in the centre of the city, but of course that was by an estate agent, well known for their flowery description of property. I liked it though, and that was all that counted to me.
After parking the car, I went into the house just to quickly check, tidying a few things away that I had carelessly left out when I left for work earlier. I wasn't expecting company when I left the house that morning, but I thought I'd probably have it anyway once I met her, and if things turned out right she'd be coming back here with me.
It didn't take me long; I'm a fastidious kind of guy by habit and I keep on top of the cleaning anyway. It didn't take long and I soon left the house satisfied with its appearance to the casual observer, and walked into the city centre to the coffee shop where we had originally met. I didn't see her at first, but as I entered the shop and stood there looking for her, she waved at me from a table at the back of the shop.
'Clever girl,'
I thought,
'staying out of sight from passers bye on the street.'
She was married, she had told me as much, and if it hadn't been for her husband not turning up to meet her on the day we met, we wouldn't both be here now. That's what happens sometimes, just little things that divert our paths and channel us in directions we would never have thought of, presenting us with opportunities that would never have happened otherwise.
I walked over to her and she stood up to kiss my cheek in greeting, just like an old friend might do.
'Mmm... you're keen,' she said smiling at me. I raised my eyebrows in silent query. 'Coming to meet me on the very first day,' she explained. 'I thought maybe it would take a day or two to reach you, but here you are. I'm so glad,' she added, and I laughed lightly.
'Me too,' I said, 'but there was no way I was going to leave you waiting for me here on your own. After all,' I joked, 'look what happened the last time you were left waiting for someone. I didn't want to take the chance that you might go off with someone else again.' She rolled her eyes, and laughed.
'Okay, okay,' she laughed, knowing I was teasing her about how we met. 'I can assure you right now you that won't happen again,' she said, 'that was some kind of mental aberration. I don't normally do anything like that... like this,' she corrected herself. 'When I think about it, I'm still amazed about how it happened, it was completely out of character for me.'
I told her that I was happy she had developed a mental aberration, and I was delighted that I'd been there to take advantage of it. In my own mind, I was hoping that her mental aberration as she called it, may not need any chemical stimulant or encouragement now that she had already become my lover. While I was thinking that she continued to explain her unusual behaviour to me.
'I've never done anything like that before,' she assured me, 'but I was mad at him, and there was some king of almost, how can I put it... some... almost magical... some strange... instant sexual connection... well I can't explain it any better that that. Did you feel it too?' she asked. I nodded my head.
'Oh yes,' I agreed, 'when I was sitting at my table before we spoke for the first time... well... I just couldn't keep my eyes off you. I wanted you right from the beginning,' I admitted and she seemed to like that if the huge smile that she gave me was anything to go by. Of course, it had been the absolute truth. I had chosen her right from the start, after all she was simply gorgeous.
'So, you still think about it?' I asked her, referring of course to the comment she had made a few seconds ago regarding how we had launched ourselves into the fuck fest we had indulged in within minutes of meeting that first time. She thought for a moment, obviously thinking about what to say, and then she spoke quietly so as not to be overheard.
'Yes, I've thought about it... to be honest, I can't stop thinking about it. I thought my husband was a good lover, but with you... sorry, I still love him and don't want to sound disloyal... but with you, it's like the difference between a bicycle, and a Formula One racing car.' She stopped, and actually blushed, looking away out the window as if she'd said too much.
'I know I shouldn't be here with you... I know I shouldn't... and it's bad of me... but I can't help it, can't deny it anymore, I want to feel the way I felt before with you.' I nodded, looking into her eyes as we spoke so intimately, listening intently. 'That overwhelming urge to... oh god... that urge to... fuck... to be so incredibly, "dirty,' when nothing else matters but the moment,' she admitted.
'Are you wet?' I whispered. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling, a little smile on her beautiful face and nodded.
'Yes...' she whispered breathily back at me, and then surprised me by her candour when she said, 'If I was wearing panties they'd be soaked.' She looked around us as if checking something, and quickly ran her hand up under her short skirt. I distinctly heard a squelching sound and she withdrew her hand and showed me. She was wet alright, her fingers glittered in the light, coated with her juices, and then she split her fingers apart showing me the strings of thick viscous juices between them. She looked around again, and smiling wickedly at me, stuck her fingers in her mouth sucking her essence from her fingers, and making exaggerated murmuring, moaning sounds.
'Right' I said decisively, 'I've seen enough. I think we can do better than hang about in a coffee shop at a time like this.'
'Oh my, so... masterful,' she teased, then whispered, 'do you want to put your cock in me again?' I knew she was teasing, but as we got up to leave I just held her by the arm and virtually force marched her hurriedly out the door.
'Too fucking right I do, you slut,' I teased her in return when we got outside, she just laughed and we hurried home to my house. The afternoon suddenly seemed filled with bright promise.
We weren't walking hand in hand or anything, after all she was a married woman, and a little common sense and discretion was required. As we walked to my house, to all outward appearances we were just a couple going somewhere, or out for a stroll. Finally, curiosity got the better of me.
'So,' I began, 'have you always been this horny?' That's what's known as a leading question. She looked at me with a broad smile, showing her perfect teeth. She thought for a moment before replying, and I waited patiently. I was pretty sure it was a good time to ask her, because she was obviously sexually aroused, and I've always found that women are more inclined to be open and frank about their sexuality anyway.
There's an old saying, 'in vino veritas,' which just means people are inclined to tell the truth when they've had a bit too much wine to drink. Women are more likely to talk about their fantasies and desires when they are, 'drunk,' with sexual excitement and arousal.
'You want it all, don't you?' she smiled, 'now you want me to bare my soul. A woman should keep some secrets don't you think?' she asked me. I shook my head, smiling at her.
'You've bared everything else,' I teased her, then added, 'except your name of course.' It was her turn to shake her head, but her smile never wavered.
'Sorry, I still think it's more exciting to be anonymous, but I'll tell you before I go home,' she promised, 'and the answer to your question about me always being this horny is, "not quite," does that satisfy you now?'
