After my
first encounter in person
with Ms. B had turned out to be such a resounding success, we began to form a somewhat closer relationship. She gave me her home phone number, and we would make appointments by email for phone sex every couple of weeks. I looked forward to these sessions; I would take the phone into my bedroom, along with a short glass of tequila, strip naked, and climb into bed, after which I would sip my tequila, reminisce for a few minutes about our trip to Oregon, and then dial her number. Sometimes I might touch myself for a few minutes first, sometimes I would wait until I heard her voice. What happened next was always a treat.
After six delightful months of this, B invited me to visit her on her home turf. I couldn't wait. I booked a flight to her state, and she gave me a cell phone number with which to contact her when my flight landed.
I wound up arriving a few hours ahead of schedule, so I called her and found that she was finishing up a little volunteer work, and suggested that I meet her at the community fair where she was manning a table. I rented a car, got a map, and set off.
The weather was unseasonably hot and humid, but the car had a good air conditioner. I found the site of the community fair within about 45 minutes, parked the car, and stepped out into a blast of heat. She had described for me the area where I could find her, which was off on the edge of the site. I spotted her sitting at a table under a shade tree, looking bored, with no one to talk to. She saw me coming, and gave me a big smile -- to call her smile "warm" would be something of an understatement. I immediately began to get an erection, to my embarrassment, because I was wearing some light cotton shorts with no underwear -- I thought that might be sexy, but it didn't occcur to me that I would be out in public.
I glanced around, and no one was looking my way, except for Ms B. I smiled back at her, and tried to think of something other than sex, in hopes that my hard-on would subside. It didn't work. Maintaining eye contact with B increased my arousal. She was sitting at her table, wearing a lavender tank top, the bright sun bringing out the reddish highlights in her hair. Her tank top fit snugly, emphasizing the delicious swell of her breasts. As I got closer I could see her nipples threatening to burst through the fabric. She was looking at my erection, which was barely contained by my shorts. Her smile got wider.
I arrived at her table, which had a few pieces of literature sitting on a tablecloth, with B seated behind it on a lawn chair. I greeted her with some embarassment, standing there with my erection sort of looming over her table, but she didn't seem at all to mind. She made some joke, I don't remember exactly what she said. It was a variation on the old Mae West "are you just glad to see me" line. The idea of making small talk seemed a bit ridiculous under the circumstances, so I asked her what was under the table.
"Oh, just a box with some brochures," she replied.
"Let's have a look," I said.
I came around the table and got down on my hands and knees. There was a lot of room under there, with one lonely cardboard box off in the corner. Ms. B was wearing a sort of homespun cotton skirt and sandals. I crawled over, lifted her skirt above her left knee, and kissed her calf on the inside, just below the knee.
"HMMmmm," she said, scooting forward a bit on her lawn chair. Then, behind the safety of the tablecloth, she slowly and deliberately gathered her skirt up around her waist. She was wearing bikini panties, and I could see tendrils of pubic hair escaping from above the top of her panties, and also from below around the crotch. This was
very
arousing. She spread her thighs to give me a better view.
I paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation of my cock, throbbing furiously against the fabric of my short pants. Then I moved closer, positioning myself between her legs. I rubbed my cheek along the inside of her right thigh. It was slick with sweat. The heat and humidity were really something else -- my shirt clung to me. But the sensation of my cheek gliding along her thigh was wonderful. Her hands began to toy with my hair as I advanced toward her panties.
Her panties were the same lavender color as her top -- a nice touch. They were made of sturdy cotton. I gently ran my tongue up and down them, encountering some resistance at first, and then gently pushing the fabric inside her as she began to melt under my minstrations. "I like that," she said.