Breaking the rules.
Firstly please let me apologies for the delay in any new material. I have several stories nearly finished or in dire need of editing that have sat in development limbo. Real life is busy as you all know!
This story though was inspired by a friend who I spent many happy times chatting with. I offered to write her a story, and this is the result. Any names have been changed (Or not alluded to at all!) to protect the not very innocent.
Remember this is a work of fiction. I never aim to total plausibility, but hopefully something which *could* happen in the right circumstances.
I do not condone unprotected sex with strangers in real life.
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• Get to know via messages.
• Social first.
• No kissing.
• No anal
These are the rules. Agreed by both of us. My husband and I weren't new to swinging. We'd been doing threesomes and solo meets for some time. It takes a great deal of trust to allow your partner to go off and sleep with someone else. But the more we did it, the more comfortable we got with it.
This was the first time that I broke those rules. I hasten to add there were extenuating circumstances. Events that were totally out of my control.
I'm getting ahead of myself. I love my husband greatly. He's my best friend as well as my lover and husband. I'm a natural blonde, yes, the carpet matches the curtains, but I like to shave so no-one sees it!
We have a couple's profile on a well-known swinger's site, we're both pretty good looking and we get plenty of attention. Sadly, a lot of that attention is from guys who are socially inept. However, once in a while, I get someone worth chatting to. Even rarer, I get to the point where I want to meet them.
I'd been getting to know this guy, Dan, for a potential social meet for a few weeks. Things were busy at home, and due to the logistics of balancing family, home and work, not to mention the travelling distances involved. It was hard to think of how to proceed.
I did however get to know Dan quite well. The messages were frequently sexy, but also often interesting too, as I found out about his work and some limited details of his home life. We exchanged messages as banal as 'How are you?' and 'How did you sleep?' But we flirted, he had a thing about knowing what underwear I was wearing, and honestly it made me feel good to share, knowing that another guy was lusting after me. Sometimes the messages were explicit as he described the things, he'd like to do to me. My Husband didn't mind, he had access to my messages and I didn't need to hide anything from him.
Finally, though, as much as I liked to hear how horny he was for me, I wanted to meet this guy for a coffee. Whilst I agree that there is more to sex than pure physical attraction, it does very much help if you fancy the person.
We arranged to meet for a coffee in the city. I was about 40 minutes out and he was coming from the outside of the city, maybe 30 minutes out.
I prefer to meet in a public place. I want it known that it's just a social meet and won't lead to sex. At least that's how it should be.
I met Dan at a coffee house, one of those big chains. Anonymous enough and plenty of people about. I made a point of always dressing sexily. Not like a slut mind. I like to look classy. For that meet I'd chosen a pretty dress that gave off a hint of cleavage. My bra was black lace with matching black lace French knickers. I also was in the habit of wearing stockings to a meet. I like to tease my 'date' with what they could be getting.
Dan was everything his picture showed, I sighed internally with relief, no Catfish today then! Dan was a little taller than me, not as tall as my husband. He had short dark hair, a few grey's peeking out here and there, which I found slightly sexy. He had nice eyes, deep blue. But what I really liked about him was his smile. It was impish. Not quite a smirk, more generous than that, but it told of sexy promises. Also, he had nice shoulders, broad and muscled. Something for me to hang on to, *if* we got that far, I reminded myself.
He was charming, fun and very flirty. I was at ease with him quite quickly, I could tell he wanted me, I would catch a look every now and then as he eyed me like a predator would its prey. It sent a shiver of anticipation through me.
It's just a social I reminded myself.
I could feel some heat rising within me and I subconsciously rubbed my legs together. A small flush crept over my chest and began to extend up my neck.
"Would you excuse me for a moment? I'm just going to the ladies" I said, making an excuse to leave.
"Of course" he said, raising out of his seat.
A gentleman too. There must be a chink in the armour though I thought. I was about to turn when he placed his hand on mine. He leaned into me. I could smell his aftershave; I felt my eyelids flutter slightly. Damn he smelt good.
"Take your underwear off and bring them to me" He whispered in my ear.
I blinked in surprise as he pulled back to look deep into my eyes. I actually blushed! I turned quickly and scurried away threading my way through the semi-crowded tables.
Once in the cubicle, I locked the door hurriedly. What a bloody cheek! I mean we'd been flirting a lot and sending some very dirty messages, but the rules were clear. Social first. I had no intention of taking my underwear off for him!
As I arranged myself for a wee, I slipped my panties down my thighs. I was shocked to see how wet they were. I experimentally probed between my legs. I was very wet and my fingers lingered over the sensitive flesh. Pleasant vibes crept over me. I closed my eyes and saw an image of his eyes staring into mine intently. His look broke no argument. He wanted me knickerless. He wanted me to know that I was under his control.
I do love a man who takes control in the bedroom. Automatically, I probed my wetness deeper, slipping a finger inside. I suddenly felt very hot. I withdrew my finger, using the lubricant I had collected on my finger tip I rubbed it all around my very erect clitoris. I gasped, as the electric touch thrilled my whole body. I prepared to circle the small sensitive nub....... When suddenly the door handle rattled. I jumped a mile!
"Sorry" a muffled voice called.
I jumped off the toilet seat and nearly tripped over the tangle of delicate fabric that had worked its way around my ankles.
I stared at my panties. Long seconds passed. Suddenly one of my feet was lifting of its own volition. The lace garment slipped off. I mentally chided myself, my conscience demanded to know what the hell I was doing. But my body took no notice. Trancelike, my other foot lifted and the black lace frenchies drifted to the floor.
