I was unsure what I should do when I arrived at her place. I stood in front of the door, steeling my courage before I gently knocked. The door was quickly opened by a middle-aged woman, just a bit taller than me. I knew her from our webchat: Stacey.
Walking through the door I asked, "So, what now?" She grabbed me by my belt, pulled me close and started to kiss me. Even though it had been a while, I remembered what to do and I liked it. It was a little unfamiliar, ever so nice. Her hands were running over my shirt, feeling the outline of my arms and chest, and responded in kind.
Stacey was wearing a rather thin nighty, nothing fancy, but it had a nice feel to it. I ran my hands over the sheer fabric and discovered she was not wearing a bra underneath. My hands explored further; searched faster. As I wandered down her back to the bottom of the cloth, I reached to caress her underwear, but found only skin.
I grabbed her ass as I continued to kiss her. She took this as permission to slowly unbutton my shirt. Pulling it down provided her the opportunity to pin down my arms back in the sleeves. She moved her face down my chest, gently nibbling and licking. And to think I had been hesitant about coming over.
I spun my forearms out from under my shirt and took hold of her arms, leading her towards the couch. Slowly I sat down, now bare from the waist up. She planted her knees on either side of me, sat down on my lap and offered me her breasts to fondle; Her gorgeous, soft, sensitive tits. As I touched and licked them, she ground her bare pussy on the lump in the front of my jeans, growing more and more exited until I felt her body tense. The flood of her juices soaked my jeans as she came for the first time that night. This warm wet spot near my zipper only increased my excitement.
While she already got her relief, for me everything was still just building to a crescendo that started hours earlier while I was surfing the Internet. At some point, I don't remember when, I had run into Stacey on-line.
I had previously met her at a party, where she grabbed my hand while I sat talking with friends, and pulled me up to dance. I vividly remember letting her know half way through that it would be only that one song because I just can't dance. I was barely slick enough to hurriedly follow with, "when I'm wearing clothes."
And then, earlier today, when I started a DM to catch up with her, it quickly became evident that I wanted more than just typing. And I wasn't the only one. Stacey admitted that when she saw me online, she worked hard to get less between us than two keyboards and a lot of Internet. I saw this as a careful and calculated dance that had to move seamlessly towards us meeting. Stacey did not have that much patience.
She sent me enticing photographs. It started with pics of her in parking lots and malls...with her shirt partly open, progressed to her with her nipples exposed, and then our switching on our web-cams. She was hot, and in my eyes, getting hotter by the moment. Her fingers traced the outline of her nipples through her shirt. She pointed her camera so I could see her tickling her clit. And as quickly as she repointed her camera back to her face, our cyber-chat shifted.
Hunter: I definitely liked what I saw.
Stacey: And, just what did you see?
Hunter: Well, unless your camera fell over, exactly what you wanted me to see.
Stacey: True, but that isn't HOW I wanted you to see it.
Hunter: Why? Is your cam not good?
