August 27

I met her on-line, in an erotic chat site I should never have been frequenting. It was a Thursday, January 7, if memory serves. I had asked her a question or two in the public chat area, and she had soon sent me a private message asking if I would like to carry on a conversation with her in a different setting, a chat application for mobile. I'd never heard of the service she had mentioned, but I downloaded it and we connected. Protected by our anonymity, we could be ourselves without risk of judgment - the only thing we knew we had in common was that we were both interested in erotic chat. Very shortly after we had started conversing, she had sent me a picture of herself. I can still recall the picture it now - it was a nude, taken in the mirror, and it showed her from the chin down. I liked what I saw! Firm breasts, long hair, and a lovely, shapely body.

And it was a huge turn-on to have someone send me a nude like this within minutes of us connecting. We shared some very personal fantasies until late into the night. Late for me, at any rate - it transpired that she lives on the West Coast, and so when she went off-line for a bit, I had to go to bed. Before signing out, I left her with a photograph - to anyone else who saw it, it could would have looked random, but it told her the story of how I had finished the evening, thinking of her. I also told her I had saved the nude she had sent, but would delete it if she requested me to, as long as she contacted me at an e-mail address I use for anonymous communication. I then uninstalled the chat app since the contents of our conversation where extremely incriminating, to both of us, and it would look very suspicious if I suddenly started using a password on my tablet.

But I was hooked. I desperately hoped we could talk again, although I thought the possibility quite unlikely. The women, and some men, I had chatted with in the past had always only ever been interested in what I have come to term short "one-night-stand" chats, and not in any subsequent off-line communication. It was anonymous and exciting, with no commitment or expectation. I was sure this go be the same way.

Nevertheless, I installed the chat application on my work mobile, which I keep locked as a matter of company policy, just in case. Sure enough, as soon as I logged in to the chat app, I saw some messages from her: "Hi!! Wait!" and "Sorry, I had to go out!" I knew it was only four a.m. where she was, but I still felt the need to respond. I told her how nice and exciting I found our conversation, and that I hoped we could talk again. She was genuinely puzzled as to why I seemed to be so eager to abandon our undeniably enjoyable and exciting chat. I explained that I really had no objection, I just didn't want to presume that she wanted to stay in such close touch.

It turned out that our little conversation the night before had reminded her that she was what other people call deeply dirty at heart, and made her realize that she was neglecting this very important side of her self. She felt comfortable enough with me, had enough trust, that she wanted to carry it on to explore it more deeply.

We picked it up right where we had left off the night before. We shared very intimate thoughts about each other, private and personal pictures and videos, and even, to both of our surprise, our faces. There is an unwritten code with people you meet online that you never provide a photograph which shows skin and also your face; this presumably reduces the risk that you are dealing with a bad actor who could use this kind of picture as fodder for blackmail or revenge porn, so spread out among all the very dirty images we shared with each other, were fully-dressed shots showing what we looked like with our clothes on.

That brings us here, about a month and a half later. It turned out that she lived in the very same city the company I worked for was headquartered in, which came as a huge surprise to both of us. One almost never gets the opportunity to make physical contact with people one meets on line, and I suspect it is even more rarely a wise idea. But we were so drawn to each other, in spite of the difference in our ages (I'm almost fifty, she is not yet 20). I did make it a point to tell her that my attraction was towards her sexy mind, not her age, but she did have a fantastic body, the type I had thought I might never see up close again.

I was travelling to the Bay area for an internal company conference; it was a distance of some 2,500 miles. I made it my habit to arrive the day before I needed to be there if possible, to give me a chance to meet with friends and also to relax and get used to the three hour time change. As usual, I took an early morning flight, which required getting up at around 5:30 am to pre-clear customs and security; a pain in the neck, but it also got me in to SFO in time for lunch, and on Sundays, I could always find people to hang out with.

A former colleague and his wife met me at the airport, and we had lunch with another couple we knew, friends who had abandoned the north for Silicon Valley. After a pleasant luncheon together, I was dropped off at my hotel - Oakland, where the conference was being held, and as soon as I got to my room, I shaved and showered and then went for a quick nap.

About forty-five minutes was enough to bring me back to consciousness, or at least cope temporarily with three hours of jet lag. This brought me to four o'clock. I lay in bed, naked, reflecting on our past together and our impending first meeting.

She had agreed to meet me for an early dinner. She picked the place, a brew pub not far from the hotel. I had butterflies. I wanted us to find we had the same chemistry in person, or at least like each other, but there were so many ways this could go wrong - we might find we weren't actually attracted to each other in person (more likely she would be less attracted me; I'd had 30 years longer to let my body go), that we didn't like the sound of each others' voice, or we wouldn't smell right, or have irreconcilable political differences, or any of a hundred other reasons.

No sense in delaying it - fate had made it possible for us to actually meet with little effort, and we definitely had come to love each other as we explored our mutual attraction via naughty texts, pictures, and videos. No one knew me, on a sexual level, better than her, and I felt I knew her better than anyone else as well. I had no intention of standing her up, but I dressed with some trepidation and ventured out of my hotel room.

I headed over to the brew pub. It was a cool evening in the Bay Area, which was good. I was walking there, and I had no desire to arrive as a sweating pig. It wasn't far - a few blocks away. There is some wonderful architecture in downtown Oakland, which rather surprised and reassured me. I made it there in about ten minutes, making me ten minutes early. I decided to step inside - if she was already there, I was fairly confident I would recognize her immediately, and if she was not, I could grab us a table. I went in and looked around. No sign of her. I was sure - she was, from the pictures she had shared, truly and unforgettably beautiful; not someone I could miss, unless she had decided to disguise herself.

I appropriated a table for two I could watch the door from. We had discussed how to proceed, and my initial suggestion was that, for her own safety, she ought bring a friend with her who could give her a second opinion about me, and also act as a witness that she and I had left together should I have turned out to be an axe-murdering psychopath; but she had declined the suggestion. She trusted me completely, and wanted me to know it. And she didn't want to have to explain herself to anyone, or feel she was being chaperoned.

The selection of beers was tempting, but I decided to start with water. I was still feeling nervous, and I didn't want to let my nerves get me drunk and tongue-tied when she showed up; besides, I was still a little dehydrated from my flight. I drank my beer, and sat and waited. Every time the door opened, I looked up quickly, and looked away immediately when I saw it wasn't her, with a mild feeling of disappointment.

Then, precisely on schedule, the door open and she stepped in. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her, and I think my heart skipped a beat or two as well. Her pictures did not do her justice. She was stunningly lovely. I inhaled, and stood up, smiling. My movement drew her attention, and as soon as she saw me, she beamed. Maybe she even glowed a little. She came right up to me, and we kissed each other, gently, on the lips. I whispered to her.

'Hello, Sweetheart. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time.'

'As have I, Lover.'

Her voice was lovely, Sexy, gentle, and kind. My knees felt weak. But the next few hours were going to be very important. We already knew we had great sexual chemistry, and even a strong mutual attraction, but we would before too long figure out whether it was a good idea to meet, whether we actually liked each other. The evening could go one of three ways: we could find we had nothing in common, that our on-line love affair was a mirage. We could discover that we genuinely liked each other, but were not nearly as attracted to one another as we were on line. Or we could find we get along spectacularly well. There could be fireworks! I was not sure which way things would go, but I was hoping for the last possibility.

She took her chair, and I sat down again. We started with a beer - I took her recommendation for a local brew, and she made an excellent choice for me. And we talked. For twenty minutes straight, before I interrupted to suggest we could at least order an appetizer. I enjoyed our conversation, and especially the way her keen young mind was as curious about me as I was about her. Things were going well!

We ate dinner, and got to know each other better. We were filling in the many gaps about each other. Our relationship, although online, had been extraordinarily intimate and trusting, and very, very sexual in nature, but it was nice to find out we had things to talk about in other arenas as well.

I was pacing my drinking, since I didn't want to miss any cues about how she wanted the night to end, or make any misassumptions. I noticed she was as well, which was a relief; I could not, in good conscience, seduce even a willing teenager if alcohol had messed up her judgment. That might have left her frustrated and angry, but it would let me sleep at night knowing I had been a gentleman.

Finally, we were both finished. A fine meal, great company. And we had not talked about sex at all - this was a topic we had explored over the last few months, and while there were still new things and feelings to discuss, we didn't have the hunger to talk about them that we had online.

I asked for, and paid, the check. We were both beaming. But what should my next step be? I inhaled a deep breath to steady myself and clear my mind, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

'I would love to lick and kiss that beautiful pussy you have shown me so many pictures of. If you are up for it.'

She shivered visibly, and said, 'Oh, yes, Lover. Take me to your hotel room, and then take me in your hotel room.'

'With pleasure, Darling,' I responded.

We walked back, still enjoying each other's company and letting anticipation and excitement build. I took her hand in mine, but beyond that, didn't touch her or kiss her, although I whispered a constant stream of filthy thoughts and fantasies I had about her as we walked. Her pulse had quickened, and when we walked under a street lamp, I could see that she was flushed.

We approached the hotel, and I became a little apprehensive. I knew a lot of people from the company, and there was a very good chance we would be seen. I did not mind people thinking I was a philanderer or even a dirty old man, but it occurred to me that people might think she was a hooker, and that would be an injustice for either of us. It was, however, the most likely explanation for seeing a fifty-year-old man holding hands with a beautiful teen-aged girl and whispering to her.

'Sweetie, I think it would be best if we act like we just met and you are coincidentally staying at the same hotel, or I may have a lot of difficult explaining to do to people I don't really want to lie to.'

'That's fair; I understand completely.'

I was relieved by her acceptance of my problem and willingness to help me avoid it. It was yet another positive sign, and it made me want her all the more.

We walked into the lobby, trying to look as if we were not already intimately familiar with each other. Sure enough, I was hailed immediately by one of the technical writers from the east coast who I knew. I smiled, blew her a kiss, and told her I had to run. My companion and I hopped on the elevator, I nodded at my friend once more, and as soon as the door closed, she was in my arms. She felt good there, warm and soft and feminine. I could feel lust rising in my loins, and was sure we would both be very wet by the time we got to my room.

We were at the fifth floor.

'Stand down, Sweetie - two floors to go.'

She stepped back, and winked at me. Then the door opened and we stepped out. I looked down the hall - nobody. I looked back at her, did an exaggerated 'shh' with my finger to my lips, and beckoned for her to follow me. We walked down the hallway the 150 feet or so to my room without interruption. I had my door key in my hand, and had it swiped, the door open, and both of us inside within ten seconds. I was holding her hand again.

I shut and locked the door with my free hand, and then bent down and kissed her. It was not a gentle let's-get-to-know-each-other kiss, or even an expectant do-you-really-want-to kiss. I put my lips hard against hers, and kissed her with all the passion I felt. I kissed her with a certainty of her own desire which I hoped was warranted. I felt her stiffen in surprise at my abruptness, but within seconds her body relaxed against me and she was responding in kind. Our tongues, which had ached to meet for so many months, touched. I felt like I was on fire!

We spent a good long time kissing. She enjoyed my technique, and was a superb kisser herself. There was no rush. After a few minutes, I reached down with and gently undid her belt, and unbuckled and unzipped her jeans. I slowly pushed them down, make sure my fingers caught her panties as well and slipped them down too. Taking my cue, she was doing the same to m. A few seconds later, we were both naked from the waist down. I could smell the intoxicating scent of her womanliness, as well as my own clean male scent. I was beyond hard.

We kept kissing, and I reached down with my right hand to caress her. She was wetter than I had ever known a woman to be. I gently pushed a finger insider her, while stroking the root of her passion with my thumb. I could feel her quiver at my touch. I stretched my finger as deep inside her as I could, arcing it toward the front of her body so it touched against her g-spot. Facing each other was a less-than-ideal position for stimulating her there, so I left it at a brief caress and slowly slid my finger out of her, turning it left and right as it came. Finally, I pulled it free, and, after bringing it up to face level, I slipped it between our lips so we could both enjoy the taste of her excitement. She moaned, although I was not sure whether this was because I had removed my hand from her sex or from my feeding us her wetness.

I moved both my hands back to her waist and hooked my fingers around the hem of her shirt. I pulled it up slowly, and as I reached her neck, I separated from her for the fraction of a second it took to remove it completely. She was wearing only her socks and her bra. We continued to kiss, and I held her beautiful body close. She took my slickened manhood in her hands and rubbed it against herself, gasping a little. But it was too early to consummate our evening yet.

I reached behind her to undo her bra. She shrugged it off and it fell at our feet. I knew from the photographs she had sent me that her breasts were as absolutely perfect as the rest of her; I reached up and cupped my hands over them, enjoying their warmth. Then I rubbed my thumbs and forefingers together on either side of her nipples. My hands are fairly soft, but I made sure to squeeze them fairly hard as I did it - I knew this would make them even more sensitive when I went to kiss them. She stiffened again, but didn't pull back in any way. I stopped after about fifteen seconds; I had teased them enough for now.

I turned her around, still kissing her, and walked her backward to the bed. I stopped when her legs were a couple of inches away from it. Without releasing her from my embrace, I gently pushed her onto the bed with my body, so she was lying beneath me. She was looking up at me, her eyes shiny and wide with lust. I stood, for a second, to remove my own shirt. I was now completely naked before her. I reached down to between her legs again, and gently circled her pleasure centre, getting more assertive over the space of the next few minutes. The sexual tension we had was so high that this was all it took for her to climax. I felt her shudder, and her skillful kissing became a little wilder and more primitive. But I was not done yet. Not by a long shot!

I pulled my lips away from hers and moved my head a little lower. It was time to taste her gorgeous breasts. I let my tongue flick against her right nipple - she had had this one pierced recently, and I knew it would be extremely sensitive. I tried not to jostle the bar she had through it - I wasn't sure if this might hurt a little, but I could not resist kissing and sucking too. I kept my hand down below, caressing her labia with my fingers, occasionally briefly penetrating her with a finger or two, and returning again to her most sensitive part. She didn't know it, but my goal was to keep my tongue and lips on her breasts until she came a second time. She was definitely enjoying the attention, and with her mouth no longer occupied with mine, she was moaning. I am not sure she was even conscious that she was doing it, but it was very, very sexy.

My duties were very agreeable; she was an utterly delectable woman, and her responsiveness turned me on more than I had expected it to. I kept up my pressure, with my mouth going from one wonderful breast to the other, and my hand working gently but persistently on her nether regions. With my other hand, I reached down to my manhood to rub my forefinger against the wetness at the tip, and the put it in her mouth. The additional sensation, and my scent and taste, was enough to push her over the edge again. I continued to kiss her nipples and rub her soft, moist womanhood until her body finished quaking, until she breathed in a ragged breath and whispered, 'stop, Lover, please stop. I need a breather.'

I was, of course, relentless, but also a terrible tease. I said, "sure thing, Sweetheart," and adjusted my self so I was lying above her, facing her and looking into her beautiful eyes. I was still very hard, but she hadn't realized it yet. I took her hands in mine, and held them above her head; my arms were a little longer than hers, and I had the leverage of my weight and position. She was also too tired to resist after two intense orgasms. I kissed her gently on the lips again; she kissed me back, a little more weakly now. She had no idea what I was planning. It was time.

I arched my midsection towards her, and she felt my stiffness against her. She gasped in surprise as I angled into her, but she didn't try to stop me, not that she could have even if she had wanted to - I had her arms pinned above her, and my legs were forcing hers apart. Instead, she whispered again.