Ron 2

Just a little ditty about Sam and her sexual escapades; please enjoy.

The party started at around six, but I couldn't make it until about 7. I walked in, unsure of how many people would be there. Carol had said it was just a little gathering, but her idea of a small affair was about 25-30 people. And in her small bungalow, that was a cozy gathering. I wasn't dressed to the nines or anything, but I felt good. Well, good enough. I was turning 50 soon and had come to some sort of agreement with my self-esteem that she would have to shut up and sit down most of the time because I was tired of the negative self-talk. I was at a healthy size, and the doctor said everything was tickity boo. I have energy and a positive outlook, so there wasn't any time for her negativity in my busy head anymore. I needed a break.

I wore a little burgundy dress with a swoop neck and spaghetti straps. I also have a new pair of heels I've been dying to wear. I looked in the mirror before leaving the house and felt I looked okay. But, of course, I wouldn't know anyone, and I wasn't trying t pick up or any such thing, so there was nothing to do but have fun.

Once in the door, it only took seconds for Carol to swoop in, take me by the waist, and introduce me to some people. I couldn't remember names, but everyone was amiable, and I had a drink in my hand within minutes. One man, in particular, was especially intriguing. When he shook my hand but didn't say hi, he just nodded and smiled as she introduced him and several others in a group. But he held my hand longer than the others, and when I pulled back slowly, he grabbed my hand again. I felt electricity tingling through my body, and I awkwardly smiled back. I had to look away because his eye contact made me blush a little. I thought it was strange but not creepy strange, just peculiar. I couldn't remember what she said his name was and didn't give it another thought.

Soon I was talking with a couple of people about the Covid crisis. It was not the best conversation, but it was bound to happen with it being at the front of everyone's mind. Before long, I had mingled my way to the back door and onto the patio. It was nice to get fresh air.

Then from somewhere near the back door, I heard a man speak. His voice was familiar, warm, and smooth. He had a gentle but short laugh and enjoyed his conversation, whatever they were talking about. It frustrated me that I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. I stepped closer to the door, and he made a stern comment about something, and immediately my body reacted; I could feel myself moisten while my heart skipped a few beats. It was him, I know it, I know that voice, the laugh, the tone. But it couldn't be him, right?

I strained to hear better, but he didn't speak. I quickly stepped inside and tried to casually look around the room for the man connected to the voice. Not that it would help because I wouldn't know what I was looking for. I hadn't actually ever seen him before. I've only heard his voice. However, he has seen me. Even though we started chatting through our work phone calls, those calls eventually led to after-hours and late-evening calls. Then Whatsapp conversations and exchanges totally unrelated to work, and shamefully, he has seen an awful lot of me.

Shit. He still isn't talking. I went to the kitchen to grab another coke and some munchies, rationalizing the possibility that it was him. What would he be doing here? He lives pretty far away. Why didn't he say he was going out of town, or did he and I forget? How on earth would he even be connected to these people or Carol? I don't really know much about him personally, even if we had been communicating for over a year; he kept his private life close to his chest, and I was cool with that. We weren't in a position to date each other as per company policy. It was just a nice connection we shared online. So ya, there was no way he was here. It was my imagination. The man I heard must've just sounded similar.

After several hours people were slowly starting to leave, and I, too, was ready to go. I was drawn to a cluster of people on the couch discussing social media. One of the women I had shared similar ideas and views with asked me if I'd ever had negative issues with social media or had good experiences. I tentatively opened up about my experience. I shared how it was a great help in getting me out of a bad relationship because although I had been physically isolated from friends by a controlling spouse, I found friendship and support online. It helped me make a very difficult decision. Then I expressed how hard it was to date at my age and that I was having fun just mingling with people online. Instagram, Tumblr and a couple of other places that link like-minded people together to just shoot the shit without physical obligation. It was working for me. They then asked if I had any luck making friends or if I had tried sexting or cybersex. I wasn't going to share explicit details regarding that, of course, because I didn't know any of these people. But they clearly hadn't done anything like that and wanted salacious information. I simply confirmed that I had tried such a thing many years ago but don't currently. I also said that one person grabbed my attention, and we started a friendship. I told them I had never seen him and that we would never be more than online acquaintances because of our company. I said we had chemistry and perhaps some kind of connection, but it was cool. We enjoyed each other's online company, and that was it.

That was the understatement of the year. I was infatuated with said person, and he was never far from my thoughts. And just talking about him now and having had that experience on the patio earlier, I was feeling a little warm and was blushing.

Of course, they wanted all sorts of details that I wasn't willing to share. So I just smiled and tried to deflect the questions. A man, who I noticed in several other groups with me throughout the evening, had yet to speak in my presence. He was very handsome with dark hair and dark eyes. He was slim, tan and a bit taller than me. He dressed nicely in dress pants and a button-down but no showy accessories. I thought he was incredibly sexy, but out of my league and maybe a bit shy, so I didn't direct any conversation at him so as not to make him uncomfortable. But I still smiled at him and included him without words as best I could.

He finally spoke and asked, "So you said he affected you. What effect does he have on you? Tell me," as he took a drink of his brandy and smiled from behind the glass. It felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs, and I couldn't speak. My whole body flushed as my heart began pounding angrily in my chest. The look alone would've stopped any woman in her tracks. But it was the voice that did me in. That smooth, baritone voice. The voice that had calmed me when I was frustrated and ranting. The voice that made me giggle when he wasn't alone and had to pretend to be professional like I was an important call. The voice that whispered when it was just the two of us and nights were lonely, quiet, and we just needed connection. It was him. I knew it. I know that voice. There was no mistaking it now. The girl closest to me said, "Sam, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Of course," I stammered, "ya, I mean no, I'm good. I think the drink is getting to me. I feel a little lightheaded," knowing full well I'd been drinking CokeZero all evening. "Excuse me, I need some air," I said, fanning my face before heading to the patio. I looked at him before leaving, giving the best wtf look I could and pointing to the patio door with my eyes so he knew to follow me. As I left, he spoke to the group about how maybe the man had a more significant effect on her than she let on, and she was upset talking about it. This was followed by some sympathetic "awe's" and "poor thing."

Even just hearing him speak to them had my heart racing, but more than that, I just couldn't believe it was really him. Or that he was just as dashing and friendly as I had imagined. I was off to the side of the house facing the lake when I heard the screen door open and was afraid to turn around. My heart was about to explode from my chest. I listened to his footsteps come closer. When his hands slid onto my waist, I shivered and gasped but didn't turn, too afraid he would disappear, or if this was a dream, I'd wake up any second. So I stood facing the lake. He stepped closer; I could smell his cologne and thought, oh my god, I am dead; I must be dead. This has got to be heaven or something surreal.

"Hi," he said, understanding why I hadn't turned around to face him, and I'm sure he could feel me tremble. He stepped closer still, and I could feel the entire length of his torso pressed against me. It was nice to feel the warmth from his body even though I was on fire. I had imagined and fantasized about this moment a Zillion times. I envisioned what he would look and feel like if we ever met, which is not something I genuinely expected in this lifetime.

He pulled my hair aside and softly kissed my neck. Oh, Fuuuuuck, that feels good. I thought my legs would give out. Overcome by his touch, I dropped my head back on his shoulder. The warm buzz radiating in my chest from the moment he looked me in the eyes was now progressing down to my lower abdomen and pelvis and was singing to a deep throb in my pussy.

One hand moved from my waist to my thigh, teasing the hem of my skirt, while the other slid into my dress, capturing my breast. Soft fingertips found my violently erect nipple and lightly rolled it. I inhaled, slightly lightheaded, and mindlessly arched against him, pushing my bottom into his crotch. I could feel him rigid against me.

"Fuuuck, you look absolutely amazing tonight," he spoke between kissing and biting my neck. "I've been watching you all night. You already know what I think of your eyes, but your smile is incredible in motion," I was drifting away to the whoosh of blood in my ears. I moaned again. I was so intoxicated by this encounter that I wasn't aware his hand slid my dress right up and had moved to my inner thigh.

With the same hand, he drew me closer, his cock obviously straining against his pants. Finding the edge of my panties, he slid beneath them without hesitation and directly into my slick folds. Making a couple very slow passes, only slightly grazing my bundle of nerve endings, he said in a low whisper that he knows drives me crazy, "I have waited so long to feel this pussy. My pussy. You feel so good. So wet. I want you in my mouth, baby girl."

He turned me around to face him, not allowing distance between us. I could feel his hard manhood and his chest pressed against mine. The fingers he had just tempted me with slid slowly into his mouth as he closed his eyes and moaned, savouring my juices. I stared at his lips as they puckered around his long tan fingers. My hand went to where his shirt was unbuttoned, and I lightly played with the little bit of hair there. I was practically panting, mindfully taking in every sensation before he disintegrated into thin air. I noticed his breathing had sped up and was deeper than just moments earlier. His body was pushing into me more firmly. I could see his eyes change and darken. My body responded to his arousal, melting into him, becoming pliable and malleable.

Then those same fingers began toying with my lips as all of his concentration focused on my mouth. First, he dragged them back and forth across my closed lips; I could smell my essence. Then knowing him, I opened my mouth and slid my tongue out, asking for his fingers. "Fuuuuck Beth, Good girl, good girl," he said, making me drip into my panties. The fact that I was finally seeing his face up close, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the shade of his stubble and how he looked at me was all-consuming. The intensity of his stare was intoxicating, and my body became agitated in response, eager if you will. The anticipation of what he might do next caused my skin to prickle.

With his forehead pressed to mine, the hand on the back of my neck pulled my face even closer to his, and he opened his mouth and breathed out. Then, he gently pushed his fingers deeper into my mouth. I gagged slightly and whimpered as I looked into his eyes with a distressed expression. He attempted to pull his hand back, but I grabbed his wrist and slowly sucked my saliva from his fingers as they left my mouth. Taking my face in his hands, he finally kissed me, and I could taste his desire. He backed me against the wall to the side of the house, his penis extremely hard against me, rubbing to an almost bruise on my pubic bone, and I could feel the urgency we were both feeling start to come to a full boil.

"Hey," I tried to say in between kisses. His tongue felt so soft, and I swear my eyes were leaking; I was so turned on. "We, um," He kept stopping me as his hands traversed my body, learning my curves and the soft and firm parts of me.

"Shhh, just give me a minute," he spoke into my mouth. I put my hands on his face and kissed back. Giving him time. He squeezed my fleshy bottom, pulling me impossibly closer. I think he would've crawled inside of me if he could have. He squeezed me from my rear end to my back, crushing my breast between us. "Mmm," I moaned, "tighter, please; you don't seem real."

Sliding his hands around to take my breasts in his hands, thumbing my nipples through my velvet dress. "I'm real," he said, his fingers pulling the scoop neck of my dress down to expose them. "God damn, and you are gorgeous," taking one in his mouth as his fingers toyed with the other nipple. I had to squeeze my legs together because the feeling he was creating with his nipple play was getting intense. Then, after moving his mouth to my other sensitive nub, he lowered his hand, pulled up my dress and moved my panties aside. I held his face to my breast, but it was all I could think to do, really; I was so turned on that I had to close my eyes and concentrate on my silence.

"Oh God," I whispered, pressing my head into the hard brick of the house exterior. He lifted his head to watch my face, my breast shamelessly spilling out of the top of my dress. His hand on my neck brought my head up off the wall. He leaned against my side and ministered to my swollen clitoris while my hips began rocking in unison with his strokes. "No, Sam, look at me," his voice low and his breath stuttering. When I did look into those deep brown eyes, I came apart. My hand flew to my mouth, and the other grabbed his shoulder. I was panting, my hips still rocking while he slowly stroked through the last of my spasms. "Good girl," he crooned, "good girl." We stayed this way for a moment, and when he removed his fingers, he returned them to his mouth. "You're coming with me; I need more of this," he smiled, and I adjusted myself to be presentable.

I entered the living room first. Most of the other guests had left. I found Carol, and she seemed concerned, having heard from some guests about me being upset and Ron having to check up on me. "You were out there for a while. Are you ok? Were you crying? Oh my god, Sam. What happened?" I assured her everything was fine. Ron came and comforted me. She smiled and winked, telling me she kinda hoped we would hit it off because she thought we would be good together. I looked at Ron, and he looked back, smiling and walking toward us. Carol smirked, "I see you were the knight in shining armour for my girl Sam here?" He shrugged and kissed her on the cheek, thanking her for a lovely evening. We said goodbye, and Ron mentioned he would walk me to my car. With his hand on the small of my back, he set my body alight again.

"I'm staying at the Hampton Inn on Bryne drive," he said while we walked to my car. "Follow me."