Sharon and I had already worked out most of the details via email. My flight, arrival time, and most importantly the exact spot we'd meet at the airport. We were emailing a few last minute things leading up to our meeting in person for the first time. After all the arrangements, identifying me surfaced again.
"How will I know it's you," Sharon asked.
"If you look anything like the pictures you've sent to me, I'll know you," I replied confidently.
"Not fair. I've shared mine but you haven't shared anything. How will I know it's you and not some guy just trying to pick me up?"
There was truth there. I initiated contact with Sharon after reading one of her stories online. After enjoying the first, I read more and wasn't disappointed in any of the stories. While each story was definitely erotic, it wasn't the eroticism that made me reach out to her. It was the fact that her stories, unlike others I had read, were well written. She had a command of language and I appreciated that. Her stories had style, a clear voice, an authentic oneβat least to me. Reading them, I got insights to she was thinking and how she felt during her sexual exploits. I felt I knew her. Her picture on the author bio page was a sheer bonus because she looked stunning. I remember thinking that it probably was the photo of some anonymous person pulled from the web to protect her own real identity.
I was pleased that she took time to she wrote back to me after I complimented her on a story via email. We exchanged more after that, including some photos she sent to me. She was right. What I knew of her was far more than she knew of me. She was beautiful and she probably got way more than her share of dumb pick-up lines.
"So, what are you asking me to do? Wear a pink carnation, or a bowtie, use a code word, or something?"
"No. That's not what I'm saying. It just doesn't seem fair," she said.
"Life's not fair. I want you to be surprised. Trust me, you'll know," I said.
The hours I spent in flight to Rochester seemed an eternity. During the flight, I thought back on how we met, the exchanges we had, and most importantly, my growing desire to meet her. I felt a chemistry and attraction. Did she feel it too? Would I be disappointed because the real chemistry didn't live up to the virtual chemistry? Was this all a hoax? What would be the point of that? Should I really go through with this? Where is this going? There was a lot to process.
I reread emails and replayed our chats in my mind trying to pick them apart, looking for inconsistencies, some reason to bail. I couldn't find any warning signs. I knew I had to follow through. If I didn't, I'd regret not meeting her for the rest of my life. I had a feeling our meeting would be electric and I wanted it badly. If it didn't' work out, we'd not live with the burden of a "what if " that never came to be.
I took a deep breath as the wheels touched down and we taxied to the terminal. I knew it wouldn't be long now.
After the erotic fantasies that filled the flight time.it felt good to loosen my seatbelt because my cock and balls ached from being constrained since Chicago. I hadn't realized how hard it got as I was thinking about her during the flight. I wondered if my seat mate noticed or maybe the stewardess. Was that why she nodded approval when she walked through the cabin checking to see that the passenger's seat belts were fastened before our final descent? I took another deep breath and collected my carry on and walked down the jet way, through the terminal, and towards the baggage claim and car rentals. I didn't have any baggage to claim and didn't expect to need a car.
I knew her instantly. She was standing there looking a bit pensive as she surveyed each male passenger. I loved how she was dressed, classy with a hint of provocative--respectably sexy. The red heels were a nice touch. Right out of one of her stories. On the spur of the moment I decided to have some fun. I fixed my eyes on the far end of the terminal and pretended not to notice her. Then I walked past her knowing full well that she was clueless about what I looked like. It worked. After I was safely beyond her, I stopped and turned back to watch her. She kept scanning other passengers streaming down the hallway, looking for me.
I suddenly realized she might think I stood her up. I quickly had second thoughts about my stupid joke.
I circled back towards her, moving closer. I watched her from behind but slightly to the side so I could see her face. She kept waiting, looking expectantly towards the other passengers now gathering near the baggage carousel. Getting closer behind her, I leaned in until I could almost feel her hair on my cheek. What was the fragrance I smelled?
I almost whispered in my soft baritone voice so that only she could hear, "You have great tits."
She immediately recognized that I quoted a pick up line from one of her stories. I knew she'd get my subtle joke. Her humor came through in her stories too. She spun around and looked me.
"So I've been told," she replied before continuing the joke, "Hi Bob, no wait you're not Bob. You're Joe. No you're not Joe. You're Tom. Is that right? Well regardless of who you are, I know I'm gorgeous Sharon."
I laughed. The ice was broken.
Without a pink carnation or bowtie, I looked pretty ordinary. Probably like a lot of other nondescript travelers dressed in faded Levi's and white shirt. I dropped my carry on as we embraced for the first time. She felt great. My arms wrapped around her and her body contoured to mine like we were made for each other. I've been told never to be the person to break a hug. Feeling like I was right then, I knew it was sound advice.
We hugged for a while. Pulling back, I looked into her eyes, held her head, felt my fingers run through her hair, and kissed her. She responded positively and returned my affection.
Soon after our lips met, hers parted encouraging more. Our tongues teased; tender but firm, wanting and inviting. I felt my blood race. My face was flushed. My dick began to harden. My arms encircled her tighter. One wrapped around her back and upwards towards her breast. The other moved downward so I could cup one of her ass cheeks in my hand. This was going great. Sharon's hands were by no means idle either.
Discretely one of her hands drifted down my chest, past my belt. I could feel her hand tracing the outline of my cock through the fabric of my pants. I knew she was sizing me up, and in the process, adding significantly to my excitement.