She was flaky, dangerous, and irresistible.
From the moment he saw her at the lunch, he knew three things: she'd fuck him; the sex would be incredible; and he might regret it.
He escaped lunch safely, and then the email arrived. All that he needed to do was hit the delete key.
Instead, he replied. Great to hear from you. Sure, coffee, why not?
They met. She had the free spirit that sucked middle-aged men in, despite the danger. The peasant blouse, the unadorned hands, the tight waist and slim hips. The burning desire to be youthful again.
Coffee turned to a late lunch. That turned to one of those deep, meaningful conversations. The kind that you used to have late at night in college, the kind that inevitably led to one or the other saying "please, don't leave, stay the night", the kind that always led to the bedroom.
She took him to her house, of course. Bohemian, spartan, the books of a woolgathering student and intellectual. Herbal tea. The first kiss in the kitchen, the second in the hall, the third in the living room. Sprawled on the couch, hands grasping for each other. Lips joining passionately, slightly desperately. His hands cupping her breasts, hers framing his face, then drawing his shoulders closer.
And inevitably, the clothing is no longer comfortable or convenient. She shucks off his jacket, he drags her blouse out of her skirt. Shirts open. Her skirt hikes up higher and higher. Then the couch is no longer comfortable. She stands, takes him by the hand, and heads for the inevitable bed.
One by one, pieces of clothing fall away. With only underwear, they dive under the covers. She's panting, aroused, wet between the legs. He's hard, eager, aching to consummate the tryst. Their bodies twine closer, hands stroking, lips locking, legs twisting. He feels her brush her hand over his cock, the invite to him to go further. He fingers her labia through her underwear. She reaches into his underwear and gently wraps her hand around his cock, stroking his bare shaft. He slides his hand into her panties and gently slips one finger into her honey pot. She moans into his mouth as they kiss, tongue, stroke and touch.
With one hand, he fumbles at her bra clasp, gets it open. Her breasts, revealed, press against his chest. The firm ripe breasts of a young woman, only in her 20s, compress against his chest. She releases his cock and grabs at the elastic waist of his underwear: "let's take these off"; the universal code for "I'm going to let you fuck me." He smiles, knowing that he's getting laid, knowing that in a few moments, he's going to sink his cock into a sweet, wet, pussy. He slides his finger out of her, grips her panties, and - while kissing her - starts to slide them off.
Clothing gone, they merge together. Her leg rises up over his hips and his cock slides into her crotch, probing for her hot, wet pussy. She's moaning as they rub together; he's aching to slide his hard cock into her lithe, young body. She looks into his eyes, smiles, and starts to roll onto her back. "Come on, I want you..." she whispers. He rolls with her, on top of her. Her legs rise up, around his thighs. The head of his cock slides into the groove between her legs. It's the last possible moment to turn back, but they won't. His cock is lined up at her vagina - poised, ready, rock hard. One small push would shove the head into her. Her outer labia are already spreading around the knob, lubricating it and getting it slicked up to plunge inside.
