Meeting Lady Blue Moon Ch. 01

My beautiful co-author, LadyBlueMoon, and I met for some first-hand research on a variety of carnal subjects. Here is our initial installment, taking turns at our respective narratives of the festivities. Enjoy!

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Beautiful, willingly adventurous, and intelligent was an enchanting enough trifecta for me to make the arrangements for the sensational Lady Blue Moon and I to meet. The fact that Erica (her non-Lit name, hey, we all have one!) was also articulate, candid, and the proud owner of a remarkable body and an unabashed oral fetish certainly added to the already more-than-stimulating package.

Our electronic conversations and the obvious comfort and chemistry had escalated so expeditiously and naturally that she decided to travel solo on this particular trip to her professional convention in Lexington, Kentucky, forsaking the usual companionship of her hubby.

Ironically enough, I figured it was a perfectly opportune time for me to make a long overdue visit to the Blue Grass State myself.

Erica readily professed to being married, but also admitted that she was not physically bound by a perpetual tether to her significant other. Besides, I was 'attached' also, but my girlfriend didn't seem to mind my pending overnight liaison with Erica, especially since she knew nothing about it. (It's much easier that way.)

So, for one evening only, call it an experiment in the name of literary exploration and research, LadyBlueMoon and I would be attached to each other in a mutually-agreed-upon anything-goes sexual rendezvous.

As I drove south on Interstate 75 in my rental car, approaching Lexington from Cincinnati's airport, I admired the indigenous sights and smells of the region. I glanced at the beautiful Kentucky Horse Park to my left, and tried hard to ignore the realization that my cock had been extracted from the zipper of my trousers. I was leisurely providing myself with a warm-up, a mobile handjob in the driver's seat, knowing that this and other appendages would soon be buried somewhere within one of Erica's wondrous orifices or valleys.

We both shared a penchant for exhibitionism and semi-public sex, and the fact that our fun and games would be acted out with a perfect stranger in a remote location, far away from both of our hometowns, excited us both tremendously and served to encourage our boldness, to push the envelope.

Just what could we get away with, how much would we dare?

I imagined Erica already primping herself in our suite at the Embassy Suites off of Newtown Pike, since her recent text message had confirmed her arrival. What would she wear, at least for starters? How would she greet me? How wet was she already?

Sexy, big-busted filly meets visiting stallion on a 24-hour road trip for the archives. It promised to be quite a trip.

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I-65 had taken me from Indy to Louisville and lunch with Marques, owner of my favorite spa, next to ours, of course. A few hours later and I was in the Embassy Suites in Lexington, primping and preening in preparation for my intended infidelity. How had it come to this? I wondered as I fastened the last strap of my black corset to the top of my silk, seamed hose. I had promised myself several years ago, no more meetings with men I had chatted with on line. But John... his stories had been the fuel for numerous self-pleasuring sessions, his chat erotic, and his appreciation of my own writing and, okay, to be honest about it, my pictures on lit, had stoked my ego and my libido better than any aphrodisiac might.

As I slipped on my black, knee length skirt, I thought guiltily of my husband. Did he deserve for me to be unfaithful? He was loving, attentive, and knew exactly how to please me in bed. But I long ago developed the ability to distinguish between sex and love. I imagine he had as well. After all, he is a college professor, and we've all heard stories of how those coeds can turn Cs into As. And my husband was definitely an aficionado of a good blow job. Okay, so I'm rationalizing, right? But still...

I dabbed some vanilla oil on each wrist, then behind each ear. I slipped on my black suit jacket, leaving the top button undone. I adjusted the top of the corset as I looked in the mirror. Perfect! The amount of cleavage I'd be showing John would be sure to keep him hard during dinner.

I slipped on my 4" black heels and tightened the straps. Beneath my skirt a satin pair of loose fitting boy shorts would ensure that my wetness did not stain my skirt, yet the legs were loose enough for exploring fingers, his or mine, to find what they were seeking.

I left an envelope containing a note on the bed. The note instructed John to find me in the bar. I didn't want to meet him initially in the room itself; we might not make it down to the bar. And my plans for the evening included more than just a quick roll in the sack!

Checking again to make sure my lipstick matched my bright red nail polish, I ran a hand through my short red hair, turned out the light, and exited the room.

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As aroused as I could recall being in many a year, I knocked quietly but firmly on the door of our pre-arranged room, and waited and waited, and then called into the door jamb. Still, no reply. I panicked momentarily. Had she gotten cold feet, changed her mind, seen me through the peephole and ran for the hills?

I stood in the hallway and texted her with a simple inquiry. "Room 612, right? Where are you?"

Her immediate reply assuaged my concerns. "Oh, I'm around, don't worry. Go down to the front desk, pick up the key, and read my note. xoxo"

I followed directive (I can be very obedient at times), and as I sequestered the key from the exceedingly polite young lady with the syrupy-sweet drawl at the check-in counter, she smiled at me and said, "Oh, your wife is quite beautiful, sir. She arrived about an hour ago. But, I think I just saw her go into the bar." I thanked the comely southern belle, and pondered my next move. Bar? Room? Proposal to make an honest woman out of Erica? Or Plan D?

Unbeknownst to me, Erica had already sidled into a corner seat in the dimly-lit bar just off the lobby with an unfettered view of anyone coming or going. She could see me clearly, contentedly observing her lover-to-be.

Somehow, intuitively, I decided to ask the concierge to make a reservation at a cozy little downtown restaurant that I had once visited after a day at the thoroughbred Fasig-Tipton auctions. About a decade ago, I had dabbled in the investment of breeding of the beautiful animals, enough so that it allowed me to drop business matters occasionally and romp off on short-notice for more important pursuits, such as living out numerous fantasies with impossibly sensuous Literotica authors.

I casually conversed with the gentleman, who soon assured me that the corner booth in Alfalfa Restaurant had been requested with the promise of a generous gratuity for the hostess as my expression of generosity when we arrived. I wanted the opportunity to explore Erica and begin our journey of exhibitionism, to see what, if any limits, she had.

I realized that my cell phone buzzed once again, signaling an incoming text. "I'm looking right at you." I pirouetted, and then finally saw her, barely, tucked away in a cove of the bar, all by her lonesome. Another text accompanied me as I strode towards her. "And I'm dripping wet."

That evoked a hard-on that did not recede for more than brief interludes over the next twenty-four hours. She was stunning, much better than even her marvelous photos would have indicated. She radiated with the sheen of a woman who was encased in sexual anticipation, and our initial kiss set the tone for the events to follow.

The crucial first kiss is such a barometer of sexual compatibility, chemistry, sheer desire, a precursor of all good things to..... cum. Speaking for myself, Erica's kiss sent my head into a spiraling orbit of flashing lights and her scent intoxicated my senses to the core.

"You're stunning, Erica." I murmured as she sucked on my tongue lightly. The bartender, no doubt having witnessed many clandestine displays of affection, discreetly turned to wash some glasses. "Um, I made us a dinner reservation at a favorite of mine."

Erica did not withdraw, continuing to nibble magically on my upper lip. "That's what I was hoping. Are you psychic?"

My hand lingered downward until it caressed the smooth naked skin just above her knee. "No, but I once almost went out with a psychic."

Erica shivered almost imperceptibly as my fingertips continued a slow, north-bound ascent up her soft, inner thigh. "Poor baby." She pouted her lips while parting her legs slightly to accept my touch. "What happened?" Did I detect the faint hint of a Mississippi drawl in her lilting voice?

I felt the back of her hand graze my bulge, taking inventory. My face contorted in pain, as if reliving the shattering memory of a broken heart. "She broke up with me before we ever went out, so I figured she must have been REALLY good at her job."

As Erica's head leaned back in delighted laughter, my own lips gently licked the nape of her neck and my free hand cupped her the bottom of one of her spectacular breasts in my palm. Her laughter was quickly abbreviated by another small tremble. We kissed again, this time more hungrily, passionately.

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The first kiss had been electric. Was it me, or was John just that good? He was no male model but had a rugged handsomeness I find arousing. As he lightly stroked my inner thigh a shiver ran up my spine and I could feel the wetness on my inner lips. Yes, he most definitely was arousing! A brush of my hand across the front of his trousers told me he was equally aroused. My mind fast-forwarded to the moment when, with all the anticipation of a child at Christmas, I would open those pants to get his package.

After our second, more passionate kiss, I pulled my head back and smiled.

"Dinner sounds lovely," I said demurely, adding "The evening is in your hands, John. But let us have a drink and enjoy the ambience of this bar. I usually enjoy a cocktail or two before dinner." I emphasized the first syllable of the word 'cocktail' for his benefit, then giggled like a schoolgirl. I suppose that was what I was at that moment. It had been several years since I'd been intimate with a man other than my husband, and even more since I had had such an encounter without my husband also being present. John was indeed exciting me. I knew it was time to cross my own Rubicon.

Allowing his hand to continue to stroke my thigh, and hoping it would journey still higher, beneath my loose boy shorts, I reached into his lap and gave his shaft a tight squeeze through the fabric of his pants. My god, but he was steel hard!

"First, though, might we attend to a little business?" I asked, a lilting tone to my voice. Nerves? Come on, Erica, do it. Cross the point of no return. I removed the envelope from my purse and handed it to him.

"My gynecology report," I explained, "Just so you know I am STD-free. Do you have a clean bill of health as well? I hate condoms." I batted my eyelashes like some ditzy flapper.

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I tapped my sports coat pocket and feigned surprise when I had no medical documents to provide. "Must have fallen out somewhere over Wheeling during the flight. I remember hitting a bump. " I shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to take a leap of faith. But I assure you I'm as pure as Kentucky Bluegrass." Erica smiled. Her grip tightened on my titanium rod even tighter. We both knew we were going to fuck all night and into tomorrow even if Dr. Marcus Welby wasn't going to show up. It wasn't selfish on my part, just something I hadn't thought of. I tried to segue back to the matters at hand.

"So, the evening's in my hands, is it?" I raised my fingers on Erica's thigh and finally felt the silky texture of some kind of undergarment. The fact that I couldn't yet see it or know exactly what it was only added to the speculative eroticism. I eased the fabric to one side and slowly began to run one fingertip gently around the edges of her labia, tracing them, becoming familiar with her intimate shapes. Her pussy already bubbled with steamy froth, like an internal geyser spewing hot lava, soon to flow generously. "So is your sex, darling."

I grabbed the seam of the lace and pulled it upward into her slit, and Erica jumped with a surprised jolt as the silk material met the humidity of her cunt. I called to the bartender, whose name badge I had noticed before he began his mission to make his shot glasses the cleanest in the south. "Jim, could you help us, please?"

He was a young man of maybe twenty-five, dark close-cropped hair and a trim frame. Erica tried to maintain composure but I began to run my finger over the hard nub of her slit, and she trembled in desire, her body shaking in unmistakable bliss. Jim approached from behind the bar, and then stopped dead in his tracks. Even he was not used to watching a lady's cunt get so brazenly dissected before his own eyes.

"Jim," I said matter-of-factly, snaking a second finger deep into Erica's sopping channel, reveling in her helplessness, taking full control of the situation. "My lovely lady friend tells me she craves a COCK-tail." Erica's wondrous chest heaved and flushed, and she gripped my arm with one hand to support herself, while her other palm cupped my balls.

"I'm not quite ready to fuck her, Jim, at least not just yet. We have dinner reservations, you see." I glanced at my watch and then looked around the vacant bar. "So, do you think you could provide some of that famous Dixie hospitality and let Erica suck your cock behind the bar while I keep the look-out?"

A glance down to the pole in Jim's black, tight pants provided his answer, despite the fact that he shuffled uneasily, blushing wildly himself. "I'd like that, sir, except, ummmm..." His eyes focused on the outer lobby, where guests ambled about, completely inattentive to the events transpiring mere yards away.

I released my massage of Erica's saturated snatch, her vaginal muscles reluctantly unclenching and allowing the withdrawal of my invading digits, took her by the hand, patted her encouragingly on the ass, and whispered in her ear. "Suck his young, hard cock. I want to watch. I want to see what you will and will not do." Yes, it was a dare. Would she do it?

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The sensation of John's fingers filling my pussy had me on the edge of orgasm already. Damn, I was just that excited. He knew exactly how to touch me, how to take control and make me feel like a wanton, an object to be pleasured and to give pleasure. The hell with medical clearance. I knew I was going to fuck this man's brains out before the night was through.

Yes, I said "fuck". We would not make love, oh no, nothing so tender and emotional. This night would be reserved for wild, animalistic sex, pure and simple... but not "un" adulterated, I giggled at my own mental pun.

But when John made his suggestion to the bartender, my breath caught in my throat. As he removed his fingers and gave my rear a pat I realized this was some sort of challenge. His whispered words confirmed it.

I smiled seductively at the young man standing dumbstruck before us, then winked at John. "Honey," I told the barkeep, "Don't worry about the customers. I don't think this will take long."

I could see a bit of dampness on his pants, just at the tip of the prominent shaft trapped beneath the fabric. I walked towards the bar, an exaggerated swing of my hips as I knew both men were watching my ass as I did so. Jim followed me eagerly and took his place behind the bar while I sank to my knees. The excitement of possibly being seen had my sex dripping. I only half-hoped John would indeed provide a look out. I noticed he took a seat at the end of the bar, near the door and yet providing him with a clear view of what was happening behind the oaken bar.

I reached up and unzipped Jim's pants as his hands went into my hair.

"Be careful not to muss the hairdo, honey," I cooed as I reached in and, with some difficulty, freed his phallus from its confines. My, but he was large!

I slowly started at the base of his penis and licked my way up the front until I arrived at the glistening drops of precum in his little slit. My tongue toyed with it as Jim let out a moan and his grip tightened on my head. His balls were still in his trousers and that needed to be corrected. I rose up on my heels and plopped the head of his cock into my mouth as my hands found his belt. Quickly undoing the buckle, then the button, his pants slid to the floor.

I reached a hand under his shaft while softly sucking on just the head of his thick cock. My hand entered the fly of his boxers, found his scrotum and pulled it forward. I began to knead his balls gently as my head began to bob on his shaft. Mmmmm, he tasted so good! I tried to take him all in but he was a bit much for me to handle. Stopping about two-thirds of the way down his cock, I tightened the grip of my lips and began to suckle wetly. He moaned again, then forced my head to move up and down more rapidly than I had planned. Damn it, he was going to cum, just when I was beginning to get into it. These young men and their lack of control, I thought, as my head bobbed wetly up and down his big penis.

Dilemma... where would he shoot? I certainly didn't want his semen to stain my jacket or skirt. Solution... I sucked faster as my hand began to stroke, fingers following lips up, then leading them back down, doing that little twist that men so seem to love. Jim, being a gentleman, tried to pull back.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned. My free hand went to his tight little ass, holding him in my mouth. The first spurt of cum hit the back of my throat, followed rapidly by two more spurts. I swallowed as much as I could, then pulled off and spat the rest on the floor, milking his now softening rod, keeping it away from my clothes. Finally I released him, stood and gave him a kiss, the taste of his spunk still on my lips.

"Thank you for the appetizer, honey," I drawled, conjuring up my voice from the past, "Looks like you have a mess there to clean up."

I straightened my corset top, jacket, and skirt, walked around the bar swinging my hips and noticing the smiles on the face of a couple at the table nearest the bar, whom John had conveniently failed to alert us to their presence. Hooking my arm through John's , I asked, "Are you ready to eat now?"

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Duly impressed with both her sense of adventure and her cocksucking abilities, I gave Erica a sincere, gentlemanly compliment as we walked out. "An educated slut who loves to give public head. Very alluring indeed. Yes, let's eat, by all means."

I wrapped my arm snugly against her waist as we exited the hotel, and threw down the gauntlet for yet another challenge. "And let's see how many cocks you can suck tonight, shall we?" Erica's face lit up in lustful glee. A competitive woman, too. How adorable.

The short drive into town was uneventful as though the temptation to diddle Erica into finger-fucking heaven was hard to resist. This temporary celibacy was only serving to heighten the inevitable explosion of sexual desire as the evening progressed.

Unbeknownst to Erica, the hostess happily accepted my generous tip to seat us in the somewhat secluded rear booth of the restaurant, and I sidled into the booth on the same side as Erica, planning to sample some delectable finger-food beneath the tablecloth throughout the course of the meal.

For the next hour or so, various objects ranging from ice cubes to strawberries to shrimp scampi somehow, magically, found their way into Erica's humid gash. The careful digital exploration of a woman's pussy tells me exactly how to eat her, and then fuck her," I explained to Erica, refusing to heed her countless hushed requests to let her mercifully cum.