We had messaged on a swinger's site through the last week. I was looking for fun as a newly separated, mid-thirties guy. We exchanged some messages and it appeared we lived across the Peak District from each other, but Ann was reluctant to say exactly where she lived or arrange a first social meet to quickly. She soon admitted this was because she was in a sexless marriage to a much older husband. I suggested a meet slightly further afield -- and only socially to see how we got on. It took a few days of back and forth to build her trust. Only then did we exchange more photographs than her suggestive but anonymous profile pictures. She looked lovely -- slim, late thirty's and wearing a long dress at a wedding, or another wearing a work lab coat. Being the early days of digital photography, neither was detailed or that clear though.
A week later I found myself waiting in a busy tourist town in the south of the Peak. A tall, willowy figure walked out of the car park. She was dressed in tight jeans and boots, a white blouse and knitted cardigan in a fetching red colour. My god she was more beautiful than the two photos she had sent, and much taller than I expected. She saw me and smiled, walked over, and offered a peck on my cheek and a gentle, cautious hug.
As arranged, we headed away from the busy street having bought a nice couple of cakes to share and headed up the small hill to find some peace. We chatted and flirted as we walked through the woods and river, and finally up a small rise and into a cleared area with clipped grass. I offered a hand over the last stile, and she did not let go. We walked to the quiet corner, overlooking a view and the path we had just walked up, but hidden by the walls behind. We sat and she cuddled in a little while we shared the cake.
Niceties over, I decided to be bold and ask her how the meet was going.
"Mmm, lovely" she said, nervously. "I did not know what to expect. But you are lovely, and a gentleman. I like that"
"So where does that leave us for another meet then? Perhaps one with some more privacy?" I pressed her to see where things may be heading.
Her response was quite practical -- all about how this was an affair, and a meet for sex, and she needed both discretion and time to organise things so as not to arouse suspicion. She could not do an evening either. All this time I could feel her leaning into me, my arm around her and her hand on my knee.
"There's one last thing" she said with a twinkle. Ann's kiss was enthusiastic, her hand moving up my thigh sending sparks flying in my body. We kissed like teenagers -- passionately, with tongues and hands roaming, but learning a new partners way of doing things.
We left our short meet and picnic hand in hand, both excited by the next stage. We discussed a little more -- that she would set the date, but I would look for accommodation in Manchester for us to use for a day.
.........
Our next set of emails were practical -- a date, a self-catering flat with an early entry and a meet on the train station.
Then out the blue, she asked how I felt about leather, particularly boots and a bodice in leather. My positive reply saw her send another grainy photo of her knee-high boots and bare thighs. We got down to much more detail -- she had a fantasy, and could I assist? And what was my fantasy?
We made plans, but I still was unsure whether to believe what was about to happen.
............
The day dawned cold and grey, and we arrived at the flat cold and keen to get warm. Ann was carrying a small day bag, and I a small rucksack with some food and supplies. As we walked into the fifth floor flat, the warmth greeted us, and she unzipped her heavy winter Barbour jacket.
Ann was cooing over the view, and we explored the open plan living area, the two bedrooms and luxurious bathroom. We put the kettle on, like all good English folk do on a sex meet and sat on the two kitchen stools to have a cuppa. When we finished, I stood to clear away the cups.
Nervous, Ann turned to me. "Give me a minute to get ready" she said, and leaned in to kiss me again, her hand holding my arm firmly. She melted against me, her lithe body pressing up against me, and her arms moving up my back. I had to thread my arms under her coat, trying to pull her closer. She was the first person I did not have to lean down far to kiss, our faces, shoulders, and hips level. She must have felt my response to our kiss, and her hands pulled my hips in slightly as she ground her mons against me while her tongue darted into my mouth.
I waited patiently for a few minutes, sitting on the sofa, and looking at the view. Her voice quietly interrupted me, asking if I was ready. She opened the door and delicately stepped out, wearing a white satin vest and French knickers. Her long legs were shown off to their full length, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She was very boyish in shape, small breasted, pale skin, and curved hips. She padded over to me, knelt slowly onto the sofa and astride my knee. She took my face and began to kiss me deeply. I could smell her scent, the smoothness of her skin and outfit a delight to run my hands over.
