by Xana Duvian ©
"Nervous, too damned nervous," she thought as she pulled into the hotel parking lot. "What am I doing here?"
She got out of her vehicle, glancing in the mirror first to make sure her hair was good and there wasn't anything stuck in her teeth. She was amazed at how the adrenaline had made her knees really wobbly. "I'm meeting a man, other than my husband, for the first time in years, and I don't know if I can go through with it," she thought.
Part of her was excited almost beyond belief. She could actually feel her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her blouse (she wore no bra). She was a little wet between her legs, and felt a tingle, almost like a contraction, occasionally. She had felt nothing like this in years.
Contrasting with these erotic feelings, however, was the flock of butterflies she felt beating at the lining of her stomach, the dry mouth, and the wobbly knees. "Dirty Knees," he jokingly called them, because of her comment about tanning them darker than the rest of her legs while using the riding mower.
Walking to the front of the hotel was like walking through molasses. It wasn't just the heat and humidity, typical for Florida, but the waves of anxiety she felt. "I can't go through with this, really," she thought.
She mounted the few steps to the hotel doors, and somehow found the nerve and energy to open them. It was cool inside the hotel, and this improved her spirits and lowered the almost-nausea she felt. "I'll just have one drink with him and tell him I'm sorry, but I can't go through with it," she thought.
She located the bar, a darkly paneled wood place, cool, with soft music playing. There he was, in a back corner booth. She'd seen his picture on-line, and he looked much as his picture did. "Take a look at those shoulders," she thought, for his broad, square shoulders were the most striking aspect of his physique.
He noticed her come in; after all, he was expecting her, and was an ex-cop.
He rose, smiling, and she thought, "Oh-oh, I'm in trouble." He had the easy smile of someone at-ease with what was transpiring.
She moved to join him, and he met her several steps away from the booth.
Taking both his hands in hers, he introduced her, maintaining eye-contact the entire time. The feeling of wetness increased.
He escorted her back to the booth, where he had a Margarita waiting for her. "Good memory," she thought. "Wonder what HE has on his mind, as if I don't know."
He reached out and took her hand again, telling her how glad he was that she'd come to meet him. He was stroking her hand the entire time, and the effect was quite erotic. "No use ruining things so soon by telling him I'm leaving," she thought.
She found the Margarita to be excellent, so cool and refreshing after the heat of the mid-day Florida sun. "Gotta be careful, here," she thought.
They chatted about this and that: the sale of her house, his job, her job, the heat. Although they were well acquainted with each other from the internet, it was necessary to "break the ice." Soon, however, he surprised her.
She was startled to find his shoeless foot stroking her leg. He'd removed a loafer under the table, and was stroking her legs with his foot. It was a little funny, like something from a movie, but stimulating at the same time. Contrasting urges battled--the desire to laugh, and that throbbing feeling between her legs.
All the while, he acted as though nothing were happening under the table, carrying out idle banter and stroking her hand. Also, she had begin to feel the effects of the Margarita, which she noted with some surprise, was all gone. He smoothly ordered her another.
His foot was tracing lines from her inner thigh down to her foot, and it was VERY distracting. She found herself reflecting on what he had told her he wanted to do with her, and imagining it happening. "Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all," she reflected.
By the time the second drink was empty, she was ready to accept his offer to join him in his room. She got up, a little wobbly, (not the knees, this time) and allowed him to escort her to the elevator.
When the door closed, he pulled her around to make eye contact, and slowly drew his face closer to hers. Their eyes closed and their lips met for that first kiss. He was much gentler than she'd expected, and did not use his tongue at all. The kiss went on, and on, until finally, the car reached their floor.
With his arm around her, he swiped the door lock and entered his room. She saw that he'd removed the top sheet and spread, and soon he had soft music playing. He moved back to her, this time pulling her to him more firmly.
Their lips met again, and she found her lip opening for his tongue, probing her, finding hers.
His hands weren't still, either. They'd moved from her back, down her backside, and gripped the cheeks of her ass. One hand lingered there, squeezing rhythmically, while the other found her rock-hard nipples, rolling and pulling on them.
The kisses continued, and somehow, he removed her top. She didn't really remember it happening, but was convinced it had, as his kisses drew down her neck, alternately licking and sucking, down to her nipples.
She amazed herself, by tugging at his pullover shirt, helping him take it off. As his head moved from one breast to the other, she stroked his bare back. He picked her up, and gently deposited her on the bed. She'd worn a skirt for this meeting, with no hose, and, very uncharacteristically, had also omitted any panties at the last minute. That was before she'd decided to chicken out.
"This can't be happening," she thought, as he found the button and zipper to the skirt, and clumsily got it opened. He pulled the skirt of, watching it slide over her shapely legs, shaved extra-smooth for today.
"Mmmmmm..." he half-moaned, when her bush was revealed. Slipping the skirt free, he lightly dusted her bush with his finger, almost teasing it, like a hairdo. She could feel the slight tugging of the hairs on her labia, the tiny tugs amplified by her need, which was increasing steadily.
"You have a beautiful little body," he told her, and moved his kisses downwards. He kissed and licked her belly, paying special attention to her belly-button. His kisses continued their downward movement, pausing only briefly to stroke her wetted pussy. The first touch of his tongue on her was like fire and ice at once. Her hands moved to the back of his head, but he soon moved downwards...
He kissed her thighs, licking the inner areas. Down her legs he kissed and licked, finally taking her great toes in his mouth, and sucking them like a cock. She could feel his warm wet mouth on her toes, and wondered what it must be like to have a cock and have it sucked. Briefly, it occurred to her that this must be similar to the feeling of being in a pussy, too.
He moved back up her legs, slowly, again pausing only briefly at her pussy.
This time, she opened her legs wider and moaned, hoping he'd continue his efforts there.
He kissed his way back up to her nipples, sucking them some more, pulling the hardened points into his mouth. Finally, he kissed her lips again, and she could taste herself on him. "Must be the Margarita," she thought, eagerly devouring his tongue.
He pulled back, and she watched him shift position to put his penis near her face. "I'm glad for the tequila," she thought, taking it into her mouth.
She was surprised how clean he tasted and smelled.
After she stroked his cock a few times with her mouth, he pulled it away.
She, who thought she didn't like to suck cocks, was oddly disappointed. She overcame that, though, when his kisses again found their way down to her pussy.
His tongue was magic, long, limber and soft. He began by swirling her clitoris in his mouth, but soon began a rhythmic strumming of it side to side. The feeling was incredible.
She felt the contractions of her orgasm begin. Felt her back arch, her toes point downward with the tightening of her legs. Heard herself moaning, groaning, almost-screaming. Felt the orgasmic shuddering of her body, as the muscles spasmed. Waves of pleasure lapped over her, as he lapped over her. She felt she was going to burst, then she did.
As she lay trembling, exhausted, she felt him move up, and once again tasted herself on him. She jumped when he inserted his hard penis fully in her in one stroke--such was her wetness. He began to stroke her rhythmically, slowly, deeply.
His pubis ground on her clitoris, and she found herself gripping his legs with hers in total abandon, pulling herself up to meet his thrusts. Another orgasm came and went, then another. Finally, she felt him stiffen, groan, and shudder, as he spent himself in her, triggering her final orgasm. Final ever, she thought lazily.
But, of course, she was wrong, as he proved a little while later.
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