Calgary Climax - Round 01

Author's note: This story's genesis was a young woman's comment on my first-ever Lit story, "Never In A Million Years". Her comment led to a hot e-mail exchange where she agreed to be my muse. Fantasies followed. So young ladies, know the power you have to inspire. Read, rate, leave comments and IM me. Perhaps you'll be my next muse, or more? "Never In A Million Year," was completely true. This next story is one I'd like to be true.

DISCLAIMER: Everybody's over 18, and it's a fantasy!

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Calgary Climax - Round 1

The flight into Calgary was easy. I breezed through customs, picked up a Dodge Challenger from Hertz and headed to the upscale Fairmont Hotel. My ample suite featured big windows overlooking the city and Alberta's big sky country beyond. The June vista was deep blue above with an endless green horizon. The summer's warmth still felt new to this latitude. I tossed my bag into the closet and turned on the shower to wash away the traveler's grime.

As I let the warmth cascade over me, I took a deep breath and retraced the steps that led me to this very point: My first story on Literotica recounted my real life taboo experience from a few years ago. The story didn't generate a lot of clicks or a stellar rating (just 4.2 as of this writing), but it helped me come to terms with how I felt about the girl (a college senior), our brief relationship, and myself. What happened next I didn't see coming. Samantha commented, "So naughty!" Those exact words were whispered by my sweet Madison (the student from "Never In A Million Years") right after I'd experienced a back-arching, quad-tightening, vision-blinding orgasm that fired cum all over our bed and her amble breasts. As the post-cum spasms subsided, I looked into Madison's lust-filled eyes and saw the fire burning strong. Wanting to stoke it even hotter, while our eyes were locked, I devilishly licked a drop of cum from Madison's nipple. Her body involuntarily shivered, and she whispered, "So naughty!"

As I read Sam's naughty comment about my story, at that very moment, I knew I had another LIterotica story in me, but I had no idea it would lead me to a shower in Edmonton with the expectation that my young muse was about to fuck my brains out. I lathered up everywhere, gave my rock hard shaft a few strokes in anticipation, rinsed and turned off the water.

I toweled dry and looked in the mirror. I didn't look bad for an old white guy. At 56, I was fit and athletic, had a full head of dark brown hair, and a dimpled chin like Kirk Douglas. While in shape, I couldn't do anything about the fact that gravity and time were showing their affects; my pecks were an inch below where they were thirty years ago, and I had more than a few wrinkles. But I'd gotten some sun doing yard work back at my home on Chicago's North Shore, so at least I didn't look like the Crypt Keeper. On the way to putting on a nice Polo shirt and some clean jeans, I ripped off 20 pushups.

Sam and I had agreed to meet in a coffee shop around the corner from The Fairmont. I'd flown all this way on the chance - the huge chance - that she'd actually meet me. I had my doubts.

On the way to the coffee shop, I swung by the hotel's bar to get a shot of Bourbon. I figured that the alcohol would help take the edge off of my anticipatory jitters, while the coffee would help boost my energy after the long flight.

With no food in my stomach, he Bourbon hit home as I walked into the coffee shop. Suddenly I had this feeling everything was going to be OK. I sat down as the barista made me a fresh pour over. "Would she show?" kept running through my mind. "Would she come in, see me, then turn on her heals and run?" was another frequent missive. "Would I recognize her?" was yet another question I had. After all, I was nearly 30 years older than she was. But she did say she liked older men. Hope springs eternal.

During the two months we'd corresponded, she'd only ever sent me two photos, and one was of her feet! But if she looked as she described herself in her e-mails, I'd recognize her instantly. Every time the door opened I hoped to see a compact blond bombshell; five-foot-two with an athlete's body that was always in heels. She'd once written that she worked as a financial clerk, and I could imagine her being referred to as, "the hot girl from accounting."

My coffee arrived and smelled great. Too hot to sip, I let the warmth rise over my face and work with the bourbon to still my nervous butterflies. I was in the coffee shop 15 minutes before our appointed meeting time, so I let my mind wander to the work I'd told everyone back home that flown to Calgary to do; photograph a car that won an award at the previous winter's World of Wheels car show. The owner wanted promotional images because the car selected to go on a national tour the following season. The excuse was good enough for my wife of 30 years. She was used to my frequent travels and appreciated the fact that I was a generous provider, (seemingly) faithful husband, devoted father (truly) and doting (absolutely) grandfather. I'd always provided well for her and the family, and only occasionally mentioned my need for more physical intimacy; something my wife was cognitively and physically unable to provide due to her own issues caused by a wacked-out Baptist upbringing and damaging inner-child issues. While I'd loved her for decades, I'd occasionally sought "alternative" outlets for my prodigious pent up sexual energy. The encounters never endangered my marriage, and in their own way, acted as a safety valve allowing me to manage my sexual frustrations. The aforementioned Madison was one such affair, and I'd had only one other tryst in the five years since. I rationalized to myself that I was due, and Sam was "The One."

My coffee cup was almost empty. Sam hadn't yet walked through the door. I looked at my watch and it was nearly 20 minutes past when we were supposed to meet. Feeling like an idiot, I figured I'd been duped by a basement-dwelling troll who'd simply helped me believe the too-good-to-be-true fantasy I'd created for myself.

I knocked back the last of my coffee and headed for the door. As I flung it open with an angry shove, the door almost took out an incoming patron. I looked up to apologize and found myself staring into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Catching the door straight-armed as it swung back, I just stood there. "Fuck no, it couldn't be," I thought. "Sorry ... wait, Sam?" I asked stunned?

"Rich?" she managed, and then followed staccato-like, "So sorry I'm late. It took me longer than I thought and then I couldn't find a parking spot. I'm just so sorry. But you came."

To which my mind responded, "Well, I may be here, but I certainly haven't cum yet." With the previous thought in my mind, my now smiling mouth managed to articulate, "Yeah, I made it, and YOU CAME! I wasn't sure you'd show, but I'm very glad you did."

With that, I stepped outside the coffee shop, let the door close, and opened up my posture to offer a casual hug. She accepted it along with a soft kiss on the cheek. I asked, "You need a coffee, or can we go back to the hotel bar and get a drink? I'm already fully caffeinated, but if you want something, we can..."

"I'm good for the bar," Sam quickly cut me off, smiling and stepping back to size me up. Satisfied that I didn't fit her mind's picture of a serial killer, she took my outstretched hand.

I love holding hands because it can be telling of what's to come, communicating if somebody trusts you, if somebody's nervous, and sometimes if somebody might want you. Surprised at the quaint offer, Sam took my hand. There was a ironic daddy-daughter innocence to it that I loved. I was in control.

As we walked the two blocks back to the hotel, she got more comfortable. I matched my steps to hers (about a 2:1 ratio because of her tall heels, but even in those shoes, she couldn't have reached five-foot-five, and wow, was she built.) Her grip relaxed some. Looking at her every step or so, if she hadn't told me she was 28, I'd have easily guessed her for 20 or 21.

The cute sun dress with a floral print amplified her youthful look. The dress might have looked innocent on somebody else, but on Sam there was an element of sexy to it. The fabric fell not quite mid-thigh, and oh what toned quads she had. Her calves looked awesome in her wedge heels. Up top, the V-neck wasn't too low cut, but showed the swell of her C-cup breasts, pushed up by a confidently red bra. The combo made me take a second look, then a third. I was grateful that there were younger women who appreciated older men, and that Sam and I had found each other.

As I continued to size her up, there was not an ounce of giggle in Sam. Everything was firm. In contrast, her hair was loose and all over the place. As we arrived at the hotel's entrance she used just one finger of our clasped hand to stroke the inside of my palm. That simple thing excited the hell out of me.

In the bar we took a high-top table by a window. I ordered another Bourbon and remembering what she'd once written, got her a vodka with soda. The talk was chitchat at first, then about how crazy it was that we were actually meeting.

Sam was beautiful. Her eyes sparkled as we talked, simultaneously showing nervousness, anticipation and confidence. I think younger women appreciate that older men can be so candid about how they feel. Being genuinely grateful that somebody wants to be with you adds an emotional depth to the encounter that makes everything that follows simply more real. At one point I told her, "I'm glad you didn't send more than that first picture. My imagination's been running wild picturing you, but even with all that, I sure didn't expect you to be this pretty. You're simply beautiful."

I almost fell off my chair when she responded with a look that would make a dead man rise, "You ready to see more?" What had been moderately engorged between my legs went to full-staff in an instant. I left cash on the table and we headed for the room.

I opened the room door for us to go in, ladies first of course. The door shut and no sooner had she put her backpack down than she said as matter of factly as talking about the weather, "Time for me to suck your cock." We both knew she was referencing the e-mail where I'd admitted that it had been years since I had had head. I let her push me against the wall and pull up my shirt, sliding her hands over my chest and kneading my muscles.

While I couldn't wait for those sweet lips to be all over my shaft, I slid my arms between her's, and gently but forcefully took her face in my XXL hands and said, "Not before I lick you until you cum all over my face. I'm a gentleman after all, and ladies always come first."

With that, I bent my face down so we could kiss, and what a kiss it was. It started off just our lips, but quickly degenerated in a manic mashup of lips, tongues, moans and passion. Pulling back for a breath, in one smooth action my hands dropped from her face to her waist. I lifted her dress over her head. Perfection stood before me. I marveled for only a moment, then unclasped her red bra. Her breasts were beautiful, and her nipples were at full attention. I took one in each hand, pinching them between my thumb and forefinger, and giving a quarter-turn and twist. This elicited a sensuous "oohhhh" from her still wet lips.

With a look in her eye that was close to a glare, she pushed my shirt up my chest nearly tearing the fabric. I finished pulling it over my head and there we were, chest to chest, skin on skin. Did I already say she was gorgeous? Below that young looking face expressing ferocious passion were the most perfect breasts I'd ever laid eyes on. They were firm just like every other part of Sam. The way the light from the room's big windows fell over them accentuated their full curves. Her nipples were compact and totally erect, standing out firm from small light brown areola. I leaned in for another kiss, relishing how the heat from her body felt against my skin. My hands dropped from her bare back to her still-clothed ass covered in matching red panties. As I squeezed her cheeks, she ground her crotch into my thigh, tightening her ass muscles and letting loose another low moan.

I love strong women! The power and strength are intoxicating.

The next few minutes were a blur of kissing and groping. We were feeling each other out literally and figuratively, relishing the excitement of the moment and preparing for what might soon come.

Ready to move things along and still standing in the room's entry, I scooped up Sam bride-over-the-threshold like and carried her to suite's overstuffed sofa, laying her in a corner. Her blond hair fell all over the place. Cradling her legs, I removed her heels one a at a time.

Sam read my mind, and her thumbs hooked into her panties and pealed them off in an instant. The site that greeted me was arresting. While Sam was most definitely a woman, to my eyes her womanly parts looked like the girls I remembered from high school; petite and pink with small (but very full) outer lips, surrounded by light brown, trimmed pubes. I knelt before her, gently but forcefully pushed her thighs apart, and moved my face to within a centimeter of her snatch. I exhaled like a sprinter getting ready for a race, then inhaled, enjoying the scent of a woman filled with lust and desire.

I looked up at Sam's face. Her eyes said, "Take me." I raised one eyebrow, and never looking away, kissed the insides of each thigh. Her look became more and more desperate, and with each kiss she slid her bum closer to the edge of the couch and arched her back to expose more of her pussy to me.

As my kisses moved from her inner thighs to her outer lips, her breathing got shallow and erratic. I took my tongue and after making it as wet as I could, I stroked from the bottom of her outer lips all the way up and over her still-enclosed clit. I was intentional about not moving beyond her outer lips just to tease her, and it had the most delicious effect. The moan Sam let go boiled my blood. I felt a surge of pre-cum move through my shaft.

I told her firmly, "Don't move. Stay the way you are." With that, I stood to remove the rest of my clothes. In the soft evening light, on that sofa, I was looking at the most gorgeous site I had ever seen. Her head turned to the side resting on cushion, her eyes looking at me with equal parts shock, lust and awe. Laying across the sofa, her legs were splayed with her toes on the floor, her pussy raised and begging for more attention. What's a gentleman to do? I obliged, kneeling back down.

"Pull your lips apart," I said firmly. "Show me how much you want me." Sam complied. She took her index and middle fingers from each hand to spread her outer lips, revealing her tiny clit and releasing even more of her sexy aroma.

While they still held back her lips, I kissed her fingers and licked them with the full strength of my tongue, eliciting moans of a most encouraging kind. After teasing for as long as I could, I let myself give in. Sliding my arms under her thighs, and curving them around so my hands could find her breasts, I used her body as leverage to bury my face in her pussy.

Sam drew her hands back from her pussy and put them over my hands on her breasts. She moved her fingers between mine to pinch her nipples. Within seconds, Sam was bucking into my face. Her thigh muscles tensed and quivered as she came for me with a whimper. "One in the record book," I thought. Unrelenting, I persisted, but slowed down to relish and continue the pleasure. Her small hands returned to being over mine, massaging her breasts with big movements through my hands. My clean-shaven, smooth face glided along the inside of her lips, slick with my spit and her own juices. My entire face was soaked from my eyes to my cheeks and chin. It felt so good.

I knew from an e-mail that right now, post orgasm, Sam's clit would be super sensitive and it would be easy for me to roll her into one or more climaxes. To help things build for number two, I focused lower on her pussy, poking my tongue as far into her pinkness, flicking downward toward her perineum, and sometimes even devilishly lower. I don't think she'd ever had a man do that, but I did, over and over. Looking up at her gazing over her pubes, I could see her firm abs tensing up, the muscles rippling. (This girl was built!) Her hands pulled my head into her crotch, held me there while I coaxed a long, glorious orgasm from her. More whimpers. Then she pushed my head back, exposing her pussy to the air. Her panting and glazed over, almost begging eyes told me she needed a breather.

We untangled, I stood, and my cock swung about like saber, pre cum glistening all over its head. I reached under Sam to move her on the couch so I could lay beside her. With my arms around her, my face in her hair, and every possible square inch of skin on skin touching, I could feel as her breathing settle. Just when I thought she might nod off to sleep, I felt her nails lightly tracing along my thigh muscles. So sexy.

Her movements grew in intensity, and she literally purred as she took command. She rose off the sofa, and from above, pressed her lips hard into mine, nearly replicating our first long kiss. She didn't rush. At some point during this passionate yet animalistic interlocking, her hand found my cock and encircled it, pumping it slowing with long, firm strokes. I could feel her milking the pre cum, which she noticed, and used her flat palm to spread all over my cock's tip. The sensation made me jump (in a good way).

Before her face left mine, she put her hand to my face, looked into my eyes and said, "Time to suck cock! Stand up you sexy fucker! I do my best work on my knees." As I stood, one hand rather luridly hung to my chest, slowly dropping to encircle my cock from the top, while the other held me from below. She kept her body pressed against my muscular thighs, and rubbed her face and hair against my upper thigh and balls, all while stroking, squeezing and kneading all around my cock, stomach, and ass.

My eyes momentarily closed. I don't know if she waited for that or not, but not seeing it coming made it even better; I felt her lips close over the tip of my cock, and her tongue press hard into my cock's slit. The heat and sensations sent shivers through me and pushed the air out of my lungs.

After my cock entered her mouth, Sam seemed to go into a cock-sucking trance. She was so single-minded it was like my cock was an independent entity that had all of her focus. I could tell she was savoring the feel of my smooth shaft, the taste of my pre cum, and the sensation of my shaft growing harder and pulsing in reaction to her lips sliding farther down my shaft.

She moaned a little as my fingers wrapped around her long hair and pulled her head forward. I eased off to let her take an instinctive deep breath like a kid gulping air before diving to the bottom of a pool. Her lungs filled with air, her mouth engulfed my cock's head and shaft, stopping only when her nose buried itself into my stomach. With her face now fully fucking my shaft, she moaned at the pleasure of being completely filled. Involuntarily she gagged, choking for air, completely unaware of how beautiful her passionate persistence was to me.

I pulled her head away from my crotch to give her a moment, but she shot me a look of anger like, "What the fuck did you do that for?!? Put me back where I belong!!" What's a gentleman to do when confronted with such clear direction from a lady? I rotated my hips forward, tensed my muscles, forced more pre cum to my cock head, and rammed her face back onto my cock. It was just what the lady wanted.