Our First Time

I knew, somehow, the first moment I saw him, that it would come to this. That we would be here, in this room, naked as sin, with my cunt completely full of him, my hair brushing his chest, my eyes locked on his. I knew it, but I didn't believe it would ever really happen until we got here.

I get ahead of myself. Some backstory might be in order.

I thought I would be lonely forever. I thought that everyone who had been married for a certain length of time either got a divorce and found someone else, or let their sexuality founder in the waves of normalcy and tedium. One night, I found myself looking for a human connection, however brief, to fill that void caused by years of kids and mortgage payments and the slow decline to invisibility that had me feeling empty and useless. I placed an ad looking for a man to talk to, online. I had one requirement only; that he had some small facility with spelling. My feelings were mixed; I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but it seemed harmless enough.

Responses to my advertisement rolled in at a furious pace. It seemed that many men from my town would be pleased to chat and flirt. Some sweetened the deal with pictures of tumescent penises. Some offered a scenario they'd like to discuss, some gave me almost nothing to work with. I deleted the responses almost as quickly as they came in, but one, short and sweet, spoke to me. He offered his contact information and little else, but somehow, he won.

We conversed at length, that night. We were fellow passengers on the cruise ship to Torpid Marriageville. He made me laugh. He mentioned that he was from another city, but would be visiting soon, and made a half-hearted attempt to gain my company in person, which I brushed off. We discussed our empty sex lives, the furtive attempts we'd made to find succor with another that never quite crossed into full blown cheating, and when I signed off, my privacy dissolving, I made sure he knew how to find me.

His words stayed in my head. I dreamt of a faceless man, pleasing me. I wondered if that night was the extent of our connection, if he felt the same zing at our electronic communication, but my fears were unfounded. He e-mailed, I e-mailed back, and we started our conversation in e-mail and text and IM that seemed as genuine, as real as a discussion with an old friend on a weathered park bench. I told him that his invitation was still on my mind. He opened the door more, offering logistical solutions to my concerns, and we somehow had a plan to meet.

Time, contradictorily, sped by and crawled as I waited to meet him. Our conversation never ended, our real lives stayed in the forefront, yet he perched on the top of my head, subtly imbuing every thought with excitement and anticipation. As the appointed hour neared, I scrubbed and shaved and prepared myself for disappointment. I couldn't imagine that this connection would continue into the real world.

Our first glance was electric. He'd promised me that he'd embrace me, and kiss me, as soon as he could get his hands on me. I didn't want that first kiss to end, despite our public surroundings. I was ready to be naked in his arms, ready for anything he might ask, and completely willing to skip any preliminary coffee-shop conversation. I knew that this was special and unique and important. The fog of lust permeated our desultory conversation, and as quickly as possible, we went to his hotel, to his room.

I was naked within moments. It took him a little longer, but soon, his tongue was on my clitoris, his finger in my pussy, and I was screaming through my first orgasm. And second. And I helped him cum with my mouth and hands, but knew he wasn't yet comfortable sliding that beautiful cock into me, so we made do with our mouths and hands and filthy words. The time flew by, hours in a minute, and while I knew it would have to end, and while it was wrenching to leave him with a smile and a kiss and drive home alone, I did it. And was profoundly grateful for the moments we had together.

So there's the backstory. Just a little more catching up to his cock filling my vagina.

Our conversation continued through days of mundane activity. I hid my secret, and simmered on a tide of lust. I counted the moments until I could see him again, but at last, the news of his next trip to my city flickered across my screen, and I knew it would be soon, that my craving, my desperate desire would be fulfilled.

School had started, and my children were occupied, my husband at work, when his flight landed. I live in the exact opposite direction to where he works from the airport, but I knew he wouldn't wait to fill me. I'd prepared for him, again, this time sure that I could please him, sure that he would enjoy me, and waited for his knock at the door. It came, and I opened the door to him in nothing but a silken robe. His pupils widened at the sight of me, and while I managed to get him inside before the neighbors and cars driving by could see me stripped naked, it was close.

I settled him on my red, virgin couch. Maybe in an earlier life, it would have been broken in, but not in my current malaise. My robe lay crumpled near the door. I cuddled close to him, feeling his lips with mine again, the darting tongue, the sparks cascading from my mouth to my breasts to my genitals. I stripped him of his clothing, desperate to feel skin on skin, without ever removing his mouth from mine. His scent was intoxicating, his cock rampant, his hands everywhere.

I usually demean men who want to fuck without foreplay, but the preceding weeks had been foreplay. I'd been wet and empty and craving him since the moment I strapped my seatbelt on after our last liaison. We could enjoy the preliminaries after the main event.

I settled my legs on each side of him, I rubbed his cock in my wet slit, I felt him strain to enter me, and I stopped. I teased him, suckling his nipple, letting him feel my wetness, but not letting him enter. His groan set me back on task, and I lifted my hips and savored the feel of his thickness at my entrance. I moaned softly, relaxed my pussy, and slowly, slowly, slowly slid down his length.

And here I am, with him in me for that first time. My cunt flexes. He moans, I ride him, slowly, savoring every millimeter that enters me. I feel his breath catch as sensations overwhelm him. I ride slowly, relentlessly, watching his eyes, urging me to speed. Eventually, I relent. I squeeze him on each downstroke, relax as he exits, in and out, up and down, full and empty. Faster, faster, I ignore my own peak and consider his needs above all else. I feel him swell as he prepares to cum, and stop. Completely. He stretches me, he strains to push in and out to meet his peak, and I hold his eyes with my own. I start the ride again, slowly, savoring, let myself cum once, twice.

I ride faster for him, his wordless urging pressuring my control. I feel the telltale swelling once more, consider my options, and stop once more. He moans, holds my hips in his hands to start my rhythm again, and feels me squeezing, my rapid pulse against his cockhead, his need overwhelming. The slow relentless fuck begins again. I cum again, completely unfair by any count. I lead him to almost cum again, and again, and again, until his eyes are crazy, his words incomprehensible, his aching need to cum in me his only priority.

I smile, whisper encouragement, and ride quickly once more. He hollers, swells, and empties his huge load in me. I feel it sliding out of me, and dismount. I clean him up prettily with my tongue, watching his face. I kiss his lips, help him dress, and kiss him once more as I send him to his car to work. We'll meet again. Soon. Very, very soon.