The water is hot, almost too hot, as it cascades over her naked body. The glorious ritual of bathing is taking a new form. She wants to be as perfect as she can be-for him. Her nipples are erect and as she shaves her underarms she smears the minted shave cream over her large breasts. Pinching, rubbing, eyes closed, she imagines what his mouth will feel like sucking, tugging and biting the hardened peaks. Her hand moves between her thighs, lathering her pussy. She is breathing harder now as the razor moves from her ass cheeks to just below her clit, making her bare. She loves the feel of her partially shaved lips and envisions his tongue slowly flicking over her swollen clit. A dampness forms between her legs but it is not from the water. A soft moan escapes her slightly parted lips as she inserts one finger. Her head falls back as she begins to move her finger in and out of her cunt; simulating what he will do with his hard cock. She is so close to release now and she massages her clit with her free hand. Finger fucking herself and tweaking her clit she climaxes and falls against the shower wall, legs shaking. She can feel her hot wet fluid on her fingers. Composing herself by breathing deep, she concludes her bathing. She gets dressed, takes one final look in the mirror and heads out the door.
She is shaking. Is it nerves or is it the thought of meeting an almost stranger. Almost because they have shared a few emails, each one getting a little more sexual – spicy- as he would say. They are both married, he has done this before; she has not. The idea of being with another man is enthralling. It sets her belly on fire. Eric Clapton is singing to her as she follows the directions to the site of their first tryst. She has no idea what he looks like or how old he is, she never asked. She only has directions and a room number. Her heart thuds. Her hands sweat. Every nerve in her body is drawn taught, like a guitar string. If strummed correctly, she cantillates a glorious melody.
She pulls into the motel parking lot. Inhaling deeply, she parks and walks to the door. Hesitantly she knocks. He is older, much older than she expected possibly late 50’s early 60’s. His hair is gray, longer than most men his age would wear it. He has a middle aged body, fuller in the chest, thicker in his mid section. He has facial hair, it is a menagerie of gray and white but his lips look so soft and kissable. She looks into his line etched eyes. They are sexy, soulful and there is mischief in them. He is not “cute”; he is not dreamy. He is attractive and there is a raw sexual aura about him. She is instantly drawn to him. When he speaks his voice is both calming and carnal.
The way he looks at her makes her feel so beautiful, so alluring, and so wanton. She is very captivated by him though she is edgy. His coy smile and twinkling eyes reflect an afternoon full of promise. They chat for a while and she gets up to pee. He takes the bed down as she uses the bathroom. The top buttons of his shirt are undone; fringes of chest hair are visible. He has kicked off his shoes and is settled on the bed. At first she is a little stunned that he has taken it upon himself to unmake the bed and move things along.
