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Through long dark lashes he looked down at me “Baby just tell me what you want” he whispered, I could hear the longing in his voice. I could feel how badly he wanted me as he pressed himself against me. His cock hard, straining against the fabric of his pants. His soft lips and the tickle of his mustache against the bounding pulses in my throat. He had been my companion for so long, the object of my hidden desires for what had seemed like an eternity. He was with me every night, in my dreams, holding me, caressing me, bringing me to new pleasures I had never known, and here he was in reality offering himself to me.

I argued with myself, I was in a long-term relationship with someone. Although I wasn’t happy in the relationship, the relationship was safe, well behaved, but devoid of passion. I was a prisoner in the safety of that nothingness, unfulfilled. Should I risk it all for just one night? His arguments were very persuasive, the assault from his lips, the flicks of his tongue, the caress of his hands weakening my every resolve. As his regiment advanced up the softness of my thighs and into the dark wetness, which lay beyond, my senses surrendered, captive to his will.

Just like every good commander, the terms of surrender were negotiated, he asked me one last time “ are you sure this is what you want?” I knew I could back out, but the situation had gone too far. I meant to see it through, the surrender was unconditional, I was now his prisoner.

He was gentle and slow, his hands torturing me; every touch leaving behind a trail of burning red-hot flesh which longed for more. With every caress, every kiss, I begged for more. When at last I reached for him, he moaned with wanting. As I stroked him, softly at first, then harder and harder till he quivered beneath my hand, barely able to form the words he asked “are you sure?” To answer his question, I guided him inside of me where I was wet with anticipation.

At first we were clumsy, two sets of hands groping in the darkness trying to find each other’s pleasure spots. The act became more synchronous, the two of us breathing and rocking in unison. He began to speak strange words that I had never heard before, as I translated this strange language of passion, I began to speak back. When we were both spent, we lay in the darkness holding each other and fell into a fitful slumber.

The next morning I awoke first, I slipped out from under the protective cocoon of blanket and flesh and tiptoed my way into the shower. I thought to myself, I could just sneak out and that would be the end of it, we would never speak of last night and life could go on as it had before this whole thing happened. It sounded like a good plan; I hurriedly grabbed a towel and quickly dried myself. When I went bursa escort into the bedroom to retrieve my clothes, he lay on the bed, propped up on one elbow giving me an appreciative stare. “Hi there pretty lady” he said to me grinning. I could see that I had peeked his interest, judging from the bulge under the covers. I didn’t reply back, embarrassed, I tried to secure the towel tighter around me.

“Come here” he growled as he lay back, pulling the covers off of himself to show me his erection. “Look what you’ve caused,” he said as he grabbed the towel from me and guided me towards him. He positioned me over him and lowered me down onto his erect penis. Instinctively I began to rock, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I was sore from the activities of the night before, but quickly the pleasure overcame my pain. With short panting groans I let my self go and came for him. After he was satisfied, I quickly gathered up my things, explaining that I had to leave. He shook his head in understanding.

A week went by, I continued with my life as normally as I could. I cooked meals for my family, did the laundry, went to work, he and I were the only ones who knew that anything had happened. I couldn’t help but think of him, about how alive I felt when he touched me, the smell and taste of him, and the heights of passion he had brought me to. Every night I dreamed of him and of the passion we had shared. I didn’t dare call him; I didn’t want to risk it. At long last, he called me and we arranged to meet, we had a lot to talk about.

We had arranged to meet at his place, nervously I parked my car along the curb and got out. I tried to wear something demure and unrevealing, but underneath my baggy jeans and sweatshirt, I had donned my laciest bra and panties. I kept repeating to my self, nothing is going to happen, we are never going to do that again. I reached up to knock on his front door only to see him standing there watching me fumble with my purse. “Come on in” he said casually. He acted natural, as if nothing had happened between us. Sheepishly, I stepped through the threshold.

“You look nice,” he said as he looked down at me through those long dark lashes. I reeled in the scent of him, clean, fresh out of the shower, little droplets of moisture still clinging to his dark hair. Automatically as if I didn’t have control of my own movements I reached for him. We kissed deeply and passionately, my body yielding to the firm caresses of his hands. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked as he slid his hands under my shirt. “No” I whispered. Deftly, he unfastened my bra and slid my shirt up over my head. “That’s nice” he moaned as he gave my breasts, which were straining against their lacey confines, an appreciative stare. He slid the straps down bursa escort bayan my shoulders and discarded the bra on the floor. He took my nipples deeply into his mouth, his tongue flicking the nipple. “Do you want me to stop now?” he asked. My body was on fire, I wanted more. To show him how much I wanted him to continue, I slid my hand down the front of his pants, his hardness straining against the restrictions of his boxer shorts.

I reached up to try to unfasten his belt buckle, my fingers clumsily pulling against the cold steel clasp. “Here” he moaned as he grasped the buckle and released it with one hand. I slid his zipper open and guided his jeans and boxers down his narrow, athletic hips. In one skillful motion I guided his cock into my mouth. He began to rock against me, he breath coming out in short gasps, he grabbed the hairs at the back of my neck and directed my movements. I could taste him and I could tell he was close. I didn’t care, going all the way and letting a man finish a blowjob wasn’t usually one of my most cared for actions, but for him, I’d do anything. Just before he came, he stopped me, “No, I don’t want to finish like that, I’m going to do something for you.” I tried to protest, but I had no control, he slid my jeans down my legs, lowered me down onto the floor, and slid my panties out of his way. I was nervous and my heart was pounding, I had been eaten out before, and I didn’t care for it, it was embarrassing and it reminded me of going to the gynecologist’s office to have someone’s head between my legs like that. I tried to slide away from him in protest. “Stop that, just relax, I want to do this for you” he said as he stroked my inner thigh. I took a deep breath and held it as he slid his tongue along my pussy. He went slowly at first, his mustache tickling my clit. Under the skillful flicks of his tongue, I could feel my body yielding to him, I moaned in delight. “I want to taste your cum” he uttered. I could feel his hot breath against my clit. This time the assault was unyielding, his tongue teasing me, his fingers stroking me, his teeth nipping playfully at me. I could feel my back arching against him, my hips rocking pushing my cunt up into his face, with a gasp of pleasure, I had come.

Something was different this time, I had read about female ejaculation, but I thought it would never be something I could do, but under his skillful strokes, I had. I tried to slide away from him, but he held me fast, lapping up my juices. “That was nice,” he said as he licked his fingers greedily. “ You taste so good.” He rose up above me and slid himself deep inside.

When at long last we were both spent. Contentedly, I played with a lock of his shortly cropped dark hair. He lay with his head on my chest and we both escort bursa fell into a fitful slumber. I awoke with a start, slid out from under his arm, gathered my clothes and my composure and left for home. I didn’t wake him, I knew he would understand.

On the drive home, I tried to straighten my hair and refresh my lipstick. My lips were swollen from the deep passion of his kisses and I could smell him on my flesh. I unlocked my front door and stealthily made my way through the darkness to the shower.

The next morning I prepared breakfast and sent my family off in the usual fashion, “Have a nice day” and a peck on the cheek. I couldn’t stop thinking about my encounter from the night before; I could still smell his musky scent on my skin, the tenderness of my flesh still bruised from the depth of his caresses.

I tried to concentrate on the tasks at hand, but my mind kept wandering back. I had the house to myself for the afternoon, and no one was due to be back for hours. I went into my bedroom and got into the bottom dresser drawer, way in the back of the drawer far out of the prying eyes and hands of others it lay in wait for me. The cold plastic seemed foreign underneath my fingers, it had been a while, but I needed something to divert my affections and to help me to keep my sanity. In a few minutes and with a whir of electricity, it was over. I lay on the bed quivering, there was no substitute for what had transpired the night before. The trusty device that had seen me through so many passionless years had failed me now. It was a cold inanimate object, it always had been, maybe for the first time, I was not.

We arranged another secret meeting, I trembled with anticipation. As I prepared for our rondevouz, I took my time in the shower, shaving every secret part of myself. I carefully applied the red lipstick which I knew was his favorite, and sprayed on the perfume that I had selected for this night. I slid on the silk stockings and the short black skirt, which I had bought years ago in the hopes that someday I would be able to wear it for someone who would fully appreciate it. The day had come. I gathered up my bravery and headed out of the house.

The cold November wind blew up the short skirt and bit into the tenderness of my thighs, hurriedly I made my way into the car and to our secret meeting place. He was waiting for me, casually leaning against the hood of his car. Without saying a word, he took my hand and led me inside. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked as he pushed me against a wall sliding his hand along the shear material of the stockings. His hands were merciless as they made their way up to the tenderest of places. He didn’t give me time to reply or to offer any protest; he slid the zipper of his pants down and hungrily entered me. When he had spent himself, he turned away from me and left. Now I had to be the understanding one, I gathered my composure, lowered my skirt, and as I drove the long drive home, I wondered when our next encounter would be.

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