Janet Ch. 03: Edwin the Master

Hi. My name is Janet. You can get to know me in chapters one and two. Or you can stay here and jump right in.

Anita and Mike had been away in France for two weeks and I was having to find my own entertainment. The last few months of being spoon fed at Anita's dinner parties had made me lazy and I'd stopped trawling the dating site I used to use for easy prey. But easy pickings is no guide to quality. In the three years since I'd thrown Alistair out, only once had a first date turned me away. There were lots I'd said no to but whenever I offered they said yes. Except for David. It took me a month. A whole fucking month. I didn't especially want him but I was damned if he was going to turn me down.

I hadn't gone without of course. Young Toby from the office is (almost) always available if I need to be looked after. Young, keen, talented and ambitious. But not clingy. He understands the game rules and I'm coaching him for success. Almost always but not unfortunately this evening. Having introduced him to Sue Barron, is the MD's PA, as someone useful to cultivate I couldn't really tell him to turn down the chance to plough her rather neglected furrow. Sue needed his attention much more than I did. It would do them both good.

Which left me at 6.00 hungry for some attention, at a loose end, no date and dressed to kill. Business sexy. Black tights, heels, a skirt a couple of inches too short for a woman of my age (38) and the cutest tits in the whole department. You would think that someone would have asked me for a drink. Too many were off home, some were too scared of refusal, a couple knew they didn't measure up and Eric is gay. The others obviously didn't realise I needed someone.

The easy option would be the bar at the Mardlin Tower. There would be several overnighting visitors who would be delighted not to eat alone and to taste me afterwards. Too easy. Too boring. Too much like being a call girl. But without the envelope full of cash. Been there done that.

His name was Pascal. I had let him pick me up at the bar, feed me lots of overpriced seafood, take me upstairs for a nightcap, fuck me every which way ( very enjoyably) and tell me how unhappy he was. We had a nice evening. Just as I was about to hang my clothes up in the wardrobe and get ready to sleep he told me it was a shame a nice girl like me had to do 'this sort of thing', handed me £300 in twenties and asked if I needed money for a taxi. I still don't know if three hundred and expenses is the going rate but it paid for a nice dress. And some new tights to replace the ripped ones. It was a funny night. Gerry, the Mardlin's night porter, thought it was funny too and treated me to a nice glass of red. I treated him to a quicky, he found me an empty room to crash in and we were all happy. At breakfast the next morning Pascal didn't know which way to look. I'm just grateful that he didn't see me when he was sitting in our reception area later that morning. He didn't get the job.

Anyway, enough of my unplanned walk on the dark side. What of last Thursday? It was warm and I walked along the Embankment. I like the attention I get. From single men, from men who should be paying more attention to their own partners and from groups of young men who probably think I'm a milf. From men from 18 to 75. I think I'm the perfect age and I know I look sexy. But all the attention is just looking. Some licking of lips, a little muttering under the breath, the occasional cheeky comment and sometimes an old school wolf whistle. Men are generally very timid and intimidated by sexy.

I had walked all the way to the end, gazed over the parapet at the water - which did get two horns honking and a serious whistle - and I turned and walked back towards the station. I knew he was walking behind me. I could hear his shoes and I could hear his breathing. If I was not mistaken he too had been leaning against the wall and had been watching me. Pervert? Stalker? Dangerous psychopath? Rapist? Common or garden mugger with no interest in my body at all?

"Good evening... lovely evening......may I?" And he fell in step beside me. And looked at me. At my legs mostly. Not common or garden at all. Rather smart. And unquestionably interested in my body. We walked slowly and silently for at least two minutes. About 200 yards. "Are you staying at the Mardlin?"

"No, actually. Why would you think that?"

"I watched you come out of there fifteen minutes ago. So I just thought you might be. "

Stalker? "If you must know I popped in to use their...bathroom. How long have you been following me?"

"Just since you came out of their front door. Though for the first five minutes we were simply walking in the same direction and for the second first five we were just standing near each other watching the same river. I've only been actively following you since you started walking back. What's the Mardlin like?"

Good for picking up businessmen. Handy for lunchtime trysts from the office. "Oh, you, know, just a regular market business hotel in the week and a weekend break trade." And hookers. "So you're not staying there?"

"I'm at the Dorset Park. Monday to Thursday anyway. Not usually at weekends."

"Nice. I've eaten in their restaurant a couple of times. How's the hotel? Are the rooms good?".

"I think you'd like them. Spacious, comfy, well equipped."

I hope you're well equipped. "I'm sure I will." This stranger seemed to tick all my boxes. I see no point in beating about the bush. Neither it seems does he. As we continue to walk towards his hotel he takes my hand.

"Some dinner?....first?"

We went to his hotel, ate lightly, went to his room, stripped and fucked. That's the sum of it. It was exactly what I wanted from the evening and he was good.

He was attentive at dinner, the wine and innuendo flowed smoothly. Soft, mellow and just the right amount. We touched on the subject of his weekends. I had assumed he went home at weekends; to a wife or partner, but it seemed not. That the Dorset Park was as near as he had to a home. At weekends he was a free spirit.

At the end of dinner we just got up and walked to the lift. He didn't ask me to his room and I didn't seduce him. We just went to his, our, room as if we were a couple. Nothing needed to be said. I had no idea how it would go once we were inside. Hot, urgent, tugging our clothes off impatiently? Or slow and teasing? But not nervously. We both knew precisely where we were going.

A gentle introductory kiss accompanied by fingertips down my back. "Would you like to use the bathroom?" I did. A little freshen up for his later benefit. A decision to make. A decision made. Everything off. My tights back on. A big soft fluffy white dressing gown.

He had removed his jacket, his tie, his shoes and his socks; undone a couple of buttons. I walked across and undid the rest. He shrugged off his shirt and I kissed from his neck to his waist. Undid the buttons on his trousers and let him unzip. Having pulled them down I stood in front of him. His hands undid the tie and slid inside, around my waist. He looked with evident pleasure at me and I let the gown fall. Whose move?

His. No nonsense. No modesty. Underpants off. No attempt at my tights. He led me to the bed. And worshipped my body. There is no other way to describe it. No rush, no aggression and a great deal of slow sensual attention. A lot of looking and many soft compliments. Kisses all over the top of me. Focused of course on my breasts. Above them, around them, tracing the line under them, teasing and sucking on my nipples. He was very attentive. In the street I had him marked as a leg man but he seemed in no hurry to move down. Which was good. We had all night.

I could not manage such patience. He was naked and I needed to hold him. To weigh his balls in my hand and run my fingers over them. They twitched and tightened at my touch. He tensed. I knew, for I felt the same, that he was waiting for that uniquely special moment in any first encounter. That first touch, the moment when my soft eager fingers touched and wrapped themselves around him. The tips first, then the whole length of my fingers circling the shaft, squeezing gently, slipping down to the base. Not too fat. My fingers could go around him though only just. Perfect. I felt him pushing into my grip, heard the 'mmmmm' murmurs of pleasure and felt the tension as he waited for me to move the other way, to touch that special ridge on the underside. The 'ooohh' as at last I felt the tip in my palm and slid my fingers and thumb together up over the bulb until my middle finger at last touched the very tip. "This boy and I are going to be friends."

It was time for him to return the favour. But he surprised me by getting up from the bed. "Wait". He rested a hand gently on my shoulder laying me back. Then disappeared into the bathroom. A freshen up for my benefit? Quite a long freshen up.

He returned still visibly excited. As he stood by the side of the bed I rolled over and went to kiss the tip. I like freshly washed. He smiled. "You first" and lay beside me. This time his hands went straight to my waist, his hands slipping down inside the tight sheer fabric of my tights. Sliding in between the nylon and my arse cheeks. Stretching them as he reached down to my thighs, his whole hand, hands, caressing my bum, exploring, stroking, teasing. Staying away from the honeypot. Alternating between lying pressed close to me and pulling back so he could look at the body he was enjoying.

"They do come off"

"I'm sure....They will. But...". He slid down letting his hand run all the way down my leg, enjoying he smoothness. Letting his face rub against my waist, and down against my thighs. Perfectly and freshly shaved, nothing caught as his cheek caressed me and pushed against my mound. He buried his face between my legs and I felt him inhale. Pushing against me, exciting himself and exciting me. Closer, as close as a man can get, his nose pressed into me. Kissing the thin film of fabric separating him from me, the dampening fabric. I arched to push closer still, his lips and tongue pressing the sheer nylon into my opening lips. I heard myself starting to moan gently, little whimpering noises, the sounds of pleasure. And as he kissed me there his hands wandered freely. The back of my tights down below my bum, his fingers between them raising the heat with every minute.

Time they came off. He was gentle and careful. I, and most men, would have torn them off impatiently. He, Edwin, was without doubt a leg man. Despite his expert earlier treatments of my breasts his passion was my legs. And, of course, the tasty treat between them. Once my tights were discarded he knelt between my spread legs and leaned down and forward to resume his kiss. More of an oral caress. Whoever you are, the lady who taught Edwin how to do this, thank you. So much. You did a great job. He didn't get this from reading a book or watching porn clips. I would please him later. But for now I just lay back and surrendered.

I think Edwin and I should run master classes for young men. How much would you pay to learn from a master and his mistress how to lick pussy like an elite performer? How much would you pay to have your man do it right? Win an afternoon at our graduation ceremony.

I lay back warm and comfortable. Naked and open, my legs spread and my head back. As he pleasured me. There was no doubt he enjoyed what he was doing but what he was focused on doing was giving me pleasure. His tongue led, moving constantly upwards, around and deep inside. Sometimes slow and sensual, sometimes urgent and probing, sometimes teasing. His lips followed, embracing me, sucking on me, pulling my swollen open lips into him, kissing me. Wrapping themselves around my little, not so little, excited, stimulated bud. Building my pleasure to busting point. He aroused me, drank from me, inhaled me, buried his mouth and nose in me. His tongue worked its magic deep inside me. I cannot recall laying so open and abandoned to the delight of being kissed this way. Simultaneously relaxed and excited, allowing intense pleasure to ripple through me, riding the waves up and down and arching back up again. And he brought me down again letting me sink satisfied into the mattress as he took a last sip and gave me one last gentle kiss.

And then he was there, his face drenched in my scent kissing my neck and his rock stiff man slipping with no resistance deep into me. If he was disappointed at any lack of tightness or friction he didn't show it. He had made me soaking wet and an open door and he marched straight in as if he owned me. Like an elite diver entering the water, smooth and straight and deep. And I wrapped my legs around his waist, for I am supple and athletic and men love it, and I pulled him deeper into me clamping myself onto him as best I could. Edwin was no porn star. Preparing me so thoroughly had stimulated him to bursting point and a couple of thrusts, a couple of squeezes and my encouraging voice were all it took for him to explode into me. It was a triumph and a joy, not a disappointment. We lay wrapped around one another and sighed.

We lay with him buried in me and as he softened he lay pressed against me, half in me and half out, sticky and sated and sighing and slowly stiffening. "Go rinse" I whispered. I had a lot to live up to. It was only nine. As he showered I did my best to clean up a little, me and the crumpled bed.

He came back to me quickly, demonstrating clearly his admirable recovery time, and I laid him on the dry side. It was my turn and he was a willing victim. Most men are. Even one month David. Almost every man. I have been with a few men whose only interest was in fucking me but they are few and far between. For some the joy of being sucked is even the high point, better than sex itself.

The sequence Edwin and I were following is my favourite. Giving head first can too often leave a girl disappointed.