The Encounter

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She sits across the room as we finish our drinks, shooting fleeting glances at me and nervously moving her feet. The light from the window is soft, filtered, kind to her face. She is lovely.

I deliberately look her over through light but awkward conversation that always seems so necessary at times like this. She tries to take it in stride. The little lines around her eyes and the softness around her jaw are all that give away her age: probably early forties. She’s tall, five-ten, maybe more, with frosted blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Decent, married, not the type to do this sort of thing at all. If I had to guess, I’d say that she had rarely, if ever, strayed from the marital track. Maybe once or twice, earlier, back when she was the knock-out that she obviously had been — and still is to those who can see it. Maybe not all of the heads that turned her way were turned away. But not for a long time, now. And here, presented to her out of nowhere, is a chance for adventure.

Women like her, who are often overlooked, are easy to attract, especially if you are twenty-eight, six-four, have passable looks and are well-off, as I am. They provide fantastic, fiery sex and are grateful beyond words for not being dismissed as out of the game due to age. Personally, I’ve never understood the yearning after cheerleaders and coeds that seems to be the only taste my contemporaries have. Women like the one sitting across the room from me now have so much more to give that there’s no meaningful comparison.

Nothing is said about the outcome of our encounter, but we both know where we are headed. We consented to it silently this morning in the biography section of the bookstore, confirmed it by mutual eye-contact over coffee and croissant and now, in the early afternoon in my apartment, we slide ever closer to it over early-afternoon drinks. A bit early for me, I admit, but she had nervously requested “something strong” so I fixed us both Bloody Marys.

I purposely took the easy chair across the room from where she sits on the couch. It had confused her at first, put her off balance a little. She is recovering quickly and expertly as we drink and converse, politely if inanely. She looks around at the room, at the furnishings, at me. And I look her over deliberately.

A well-preserved figure under quietly expensive clothes: a generous curve of breast beneath the jacket, long, tapered legs, a fullness in the thigh of which I am, perhaps, overly fond. A flush rises on her cheeks as I look straight into her eyes. Finally she puts down her glass with a little thud of finality and returns my gaze levelly. The moment has arrived. She’s regained her self-possession and is telling me that she will not be played with like a hapless mouse, that she’s here for the purpose we’re both aware of, telling me to make a move or end it. I like her instantly, and very much, for that.

“Come over here,” I say firmly, “here next to me.”

She rises from the couch and crosses uncertainly to the chair. I take her hand and pull her down till she kneels by the chair. She sighs a little as I caress her hair and cheek, her breath a little ragged with nerves. I tilt her face up until I am looking into her eyes.

“I’d like very much to be with you,” I say. “Will you? Will you say yes?”

“Yes.” It is so soft that I see her say it rather than hear her. I place her hand, palm down on my thigh and squeeze her fingers around it a little. She squeezes a little on her own, so I move it to the bulge growing hard along the inside of my leg and hear a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers explore the length of it and her breathing deepens. Her eyes close and a soft sound escapes her when she feels the size of it, the promise.

I unzip and ease it out into the open, place her hand around it. For a moment, I think she might lose her nerve, that this is too much, but she is not deterred. She only gasps and opens her eyes. She gazes at it for a long moment, sitting there in the sunlight that filters through the windows. The shadows move across her face as the breeze stirs the branches of the trees. She raises her eyes to mine again.

“Go ahead,” I encourage her.

Slowly she bends it toward her face. Her tongue slips out and touches it carefully. Then, with a small, eager sound, she covers the head with her lips.

Ohhh! The warmth of that eager mouth! The lips pull and the tongue slips deliciously around the head and under the ridge of it. Waves of lust flood me and I barely restrain myself from grasping her head and thrusting hard and fast until I come. But I steel myself and contemplate the red spots of excitement high on her cheek bones. I want her complete surrender; I want her to beg me to take her again and again. After a few minutes I reach down and stop her.

With my lips near her ear I whisper, “Go into the bed room. Take off all of your clothes — all of them! Lie on the bed and wait for me — on top of the spread where I can see you.”

She rises and passes out of my sight behind the chair. I sip the rest of my drink and force myself to wait five more minutes. When I enter the bedroom canlı bahis she is as I had ordered: naked and lying diagonally across the bed. I am thrilled to see that her thighs are full and round with mature, ripe female flesh, soft and yielding. The light fuzz where they meet matches her hair. Her breasts are smallish but a firm, delightful and satisfying handful, pointed, with large pink aureoles and sharp little nipples standing up now, stiff and inviting. She is a prize worth winning!

I cross and stand a few inches from her feet so I can se the full length of her. Her eyes fasten on my cock, heavy and half hard, still protruding from my fly. I take a chance.

“Would you like to know what will happen?” I asked.

She looks up at me and nods. I wait to judge her reaction, see how much she can take. When the tip of her tongue snakes out to wet her lips and the flush mounts higher on her neck and face I know she wants it all.

“I’m going to come in your mouth.” She gasps and closes her eyes, her hands convulse on the bedclothes. “Then I’m going to eat you till you come in mine; after that, I’m going to fuck you hard and long.”

Her stomach tightens and her back arches off the bed. Her hands clutch the bedspread and those voluptuous thighs move against each other, one on top of the other, down again. She opens them and for a moment I can see her soft blonde bush, damp now. When she looks back at me, I strip quickly, letting her watch, then circle the bed. Her head swivels as I walk; her eyes never leave my cock. I grasp one wrist and pull till her head hangs off the edge of the bed and her face is directly under my erection. She strains toward the taut, round head as I lower it to her mouth; her lips part and her tongue begins again to make its little trails around the crown.

“Suck!” I order in a soft, commanding voice.

I feel her shiver. Her lips close and her mouth works and her tongue lashes insistently back and forth. I look at her body while she works on me. Long and spare, still with a neat nipped-in waist. Not too many kids. Long from hip to knee, providing gorgeous thighs of alabaster flesh laced with delicate blue veins. I long to spread them and bury myself in her even as my climax rises toward her sucking lips. I force it back in exquisite torture. My hand starts to drift toward her breast but I restrain it. Up to this point I’ve touched only her hands: to help her out of the car pull her down beside me in the living room, and position her on the bed. I want to come in her mouth before so much as kissing her.

It isn’t long. The cum boils up and shoots into her mouth. She utters a muffled cry and grasps the shaft but she swallows and sucks and swallows some more. A little escapes her lips and trickles down the side of her face. When it’s over, I walk around the bed till I am between her legs. I lower myself to the bed and push her magnificent thighs open with my hands, then pull them close around my face, soft and fragrant, warm and velvet. Her slit is drenched and her rank aroma drives me wild. I dive into her tongue first and hear her suck in her breath. Her hand grips my hair. I lick and probe. She moans and rolls her head above me, raises her legs and locks her ankles behind my neck. I catch her clit and tongue it, glance up to see her belly flutter and convulse. I settle in, making long slow strokes on her clit and gradually increase the speed. She moans out loud now, her thighs open and close around my face in soft, damp ecstasy.

Soon, her voice is higher and tighter, her movements more urgent. I snake my tongue deep, curl it, probe, twist, withdraw and lick her labia with rough strokes. I nip her clit again between lip-covered teeth, lash it with the tip of my tongue. Her movement urges me on, undulating hips, thighs scissoring against my face, hips bucking gently up and down. I flatten my tongue against her clit and lap hard and fast.

“Oh, God!…….Yes!”

She is close. Her voice is ragged and hot with need and desire. I grip her ample bottom. My fingers sink into the delicious warm flesh and grip hard. My tongue thrashes her oily little clit.

“AHH!!! YES!! ….. There!….Right there!! More! More! … …Uh-huh! Uh-huh!! Please, don’t stop!! …. Please, Please! PLEASE!!”

I don’t and she erupts in a long slow orgasm that arches her off of the bed and stiffens her, quaking, with her luscious bottom in my hands.

She descends, gasping and, to the bed. I move up beside her and squeeze her breasts softly while she sobs quietly on my shoulder. She sobs with release, not regret, and soon stops and lies quiet. I slide my hands to her thighs and caress slowly and firmly, feel her deeply, squeeze her hard, enjoy to the fullest the soft, warm, luxurious flesh of her legs. She holds my shoulders and kisses my neck and chest, mewing and purring quietly, letting me have whatever I want. I move down in the bed till my face lies on her thigh. I slide my hand up her leg.

“This is what I like best,” I say, kissing her thighs, “this soft, warm flesh high up on the inside of your legs. It’s very feminine. It pleases me.”

I bahis siteleri force her thighs apart, lower my head, suck in some of that lovely flesh, licking and biting gently, smelling her excitement, hearing her soft moans. I push two fingers deep into her still-wet cunt and she catches her breath a little, then melts her body to mine. I move my hand in and out of her, listening to her breathe and sigh. I keep it up for long, slow minutes, enjoying the hot slickness of her labia. She starts to clutch my arm and whimper a little.

I raise back up and pull her against me. She places her face against my chest and sighs.

“You have a lovely cunt. I love to feel it wet and pulsing around me. Does this feel good?”

I stroke her clit with my fingertip and she nods and sighs against my chest.

“Uh-huh…. do it some mo…more.” I finger her faster and deeper and feel her squirm and tremble with the returning desire. I guide her hand to my already stiffening cock and hear her throaty growl as she begins to stroke it.

“See what those sexy legs of yours do? It will be hard soon,” I say.

“Can I help?”

“If you want to.”

She slides down and covers it once more with her warm, generous mouth and sucks softly and lovingly. Ahhh, she can give so much! I reach down and take her face between my hands. Slowly, I slide my cock in and out of her mouth. The eye contact she makes sets me on fire.

“Move around,” I say, and pull on her waist. Soon her cunt is directly above my face and she settles it smoothly onto my mouth. After several long, lovely moments of pushing my tongue deep inside her, licking her labia and nipping her clit, I pull her around again, place her beneath me and plunge into her to the hilt. She cries out and clutches me with arms and legs. Our mouths come together in a hot, passionate, open kiss that never seems to end.

“Here, taste your lovely moisture,” I say to her and she laps at my face and mouth, licking and sucking and making little passionate sounds with her lips.

We fuck wildly and intensely for several minutes, then settle into a long slow climb to the peak.

Our bodies, oiled with sweat, slip and slide against each other. Her breasts flatten against me, then pop up as I draw back to take one in my hand and squeeze and twist. I roll to the side and she mounts smoothly to sit on top of me. Her hips gyrate wildly. She leans forward, her hands on either side of my face.

“Fuck me now,” she whispers, “Fuck me hard, hard, HARD!”

I brace my heels on the mattress and pump my hips hard. Her face goes slack with passion, her eyes close and she stiffens, then erupts with a rush of breath and a low moan. I grasp her waist and turn her under me, slowing the stroke as my own orgasm approaches. I come deep inside her and relax, trembling, on her breast.

Later, when we dress and prepare to drive back to her car, she turns to me at the door and says, hesitantly but firmly, “Can I come back sometime?” The need and hope in her voice and eyes are an aphrodisiac that will last until she does.

“Sure. Call me next week. I’m home most evenings.” I grasp her bottom and pull her tight against me for a long, lingering kiss. Then, I write my number on a slip of paper and she puts it in her purse.

She hesitates a little, then, “I like the way you talk to me. No one’s ever talked to me that way before. It’s supposed to be dirty, but it’s exciting; it …..it makes me want you….very badly!.” She was taking chances now, too. “And I like the way you … just… use me…push me and pull me till I’m where you want me. It’s exciting to be turned and twisted and pushed around a little. No one’s wanted to do that for a long time. It’s not supposed to be smart to say this, I suppose, but I want you to know you can have me whenever you want….do whatever you want to me.” She is trembling with the effort it takes to say these things, to conquer the fear.

I pull up her skirt and slip a hand inside her panties to cup her bottom and squeeze hard. “You are gorgeous. I love your bottom and your sweet breasts! Next time you come, wear your prettiest underthings. I’m going to take photos of you.”

She calls exactly one week later.

“I’d like to see you,” she says breathlessly, a bit hesitantly. It occurs to me that she’s not as confident as she had seemed at the end of our first encounter. Doubts. Maybe she thought I had just been playing games with an older woman, taking her to my bed out of amusement or desperation or even cruelty. How many hours had she spent wondering about making this call, about whether she could afford the rejection that she feared?

“Good,” I reply immediately, “I can’t wait for you to be here again.”

“All right!” A rush of relief fills her voice, ” ….about noon?”

“Fine. Can you find the place all right?”

“Yes…..see you soon.”

“Don’t forget… your prettiest underthings.”

“Oh! . . . Oh, Yes, all right!”

When she arrives, I let her in and start to take her in my arms for a kiss. She stops me playfully and pushes me back at arms length.

“Go sit,” she says, bahis şirketleri “my show first. Then, you can have me any way you like!”

Catching her mood I play along, sit in my chair and watch as she crosses the room and stands in front of me. She’s wearing a nice little suit with a pleated skirt that ends just above the knee. She drops her purse to the floor and slowly raises her skirt till I am staring at those long, perfect legs clad in dark stockings with lace tops held up by a black garterbelt with little roses on it. The tops of her gleaming, ivory thighs contrast boldly with the stockings and the black lace panties that cover the neat triangle between.

“Do you still like my legs? Like them like this? Do you want to touch them?”

“You know I do!”

Slowly she approaches, the skirt held up to her waist. Her eyes glitter and her half-smile trembles as her breath quickens. She’s not just nervous; she’s scared to death. She’s planned this and it must seem an incredible risk to her.

“Here, touch me. Put your hand high-up, inside, where you said you liked it best. I love it when you touch me there!”

She takes my wrist and guides my hand to her leg, high up above the stockings. I help myself to what she offers. I squeeze for a while then drop my hand down, start at the knee and let my hand glide up the smooth, warm nylon to the lacy tops. The stockings are firmly packed and feel hard to the touch. Then, my hand slides off onto the slight bulge of smooth, soft flesh that’s heaven to touch and the warmth springs up my arm and explodes into my chest. Again she touches my wrist, moves my hand to the soft springy mound beneath the panties.

“Just a few strokes . . . Squeeze a little . . . Oh-h-h, that’s heaven! Are you getting hard yet?”

“Yes.” I grasp a handful of her thigh and knead it, pull it close to my face and kiss it.

“Take it out and show it to me,” she says, pulling away.

I unzip and pull out my swollen cock and let it lie along my lap.

“Stroke it for me,” she says, “I’ll sit over here and watch.”

She moves to the couch and sits with her back against the arm and her legs in the seat, skirt still high. I can see the soft under curve of her long, beautiful thighs and the roundness of her bottom.

I stroke and wave my cock. She watches, her eyes narrow. One of her hands drifts to her crotch and starts a slow movement; the other opens the buttons of her blouse, slips inside and begins to fondle her breast.

“Oh-h-h, I’ve thought about this for a whole week,” she whispers, her voice husky and heavy with desire.

“Take off the blouse, I want to watch what you’re doing.” Her smile widens as she shrugs and throws her shoulders back to let the blouse fall off of her shoulders and down her back. The movement causes her tight little breasts to lift and point to the ceiling. The pale sunlight that filters in through the curtains outline her nipples, pink and stiff.

“Come to me!” she says.

I cross the room and stand beside her. My hand drops to her breast and she plunges her mouth down on my cock with a cry of release. I mash and twist her tit till she cries out, then stop, worried that she is hurt.

“No! Do it some more! Hurt me a little! Please!” I resume my energetic fondling and she sucks me with mounting desire. She plies me with deep, rolling sucks that turn her lips inside out and hollow her cheeks.

She raises her head once more and says, her voice tense, “Fuck my mouth! Fuck it with that big cock! Like you did last time…..Mmmmmmm!”

I catch her face between my hands and move my hips in and out, watching my cock disappear, then reappear, slick with her saliva. I don’t hold back. I gush into her mouth and coat her lips and chin with thick gouts of cum. She whimpers and cries and sucks until I am soft in her mouth.

She returns from a quick visit to the bathroom completely dressed and made-up, her hair perfectly done.

“So, where’s your camera?” she asks.

“I set it up in the bedroom but we can begin in here if you like.”

“I’d like to pose for you as you’re sitting in your chair.”

I get the camera from the bedroom and sit in the chair.

“Wait,” I say, “let me adjust the track lighting. You can stand there in front of the fireplace.”

It turns out to be a good session. She poses standing before the fireplace with her skirt waist-high; on the couch with her blouse off of one shoulder and breast; on her knees between my legs with my cock in her mouth, her eyes looking lustfully into the lens.

Later, I pose her on the bed in various stages of undress, in stockings and garterbelt, with and without a bra and panties. I take a beautiful bust shot of her looking across her shoulder, her breasts bare, her nipples stiff and outlined sharply against the dark background. The stockings and belt come off. I photograph those lovely thighs from the back, her bottom a gleaming round moon above them, and from the front, pressed firmly together, her pale blonde fuzz a nest at their apex. She lies on her back, those gorgeous thighs spread wide and raised, her fingers between her cuntlips. One of my favorite shots is of her lying on her stomach smiling back over her shoulder, legs slightly spread. The camera is behind her and the angle emphasizes the round luxury of her thighs and bottom.

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