She Crossed the Line

It's Monday morning, I should be up and dressing for work but instead I'm still in bed trying to fathom yesterday's events. I am not totally awake, and I find my hand has wandered down past my belly and nested between my thighs. I am a bit swollen, my pubic hairs feel matted, and as I squeeze I find that I am delightfully sore.

Oops, let me pause and give you some background. My name is Anne, I am a very happily married fifty-year old who is in good shape and could easily pass as forty. I enjoy a great sex life with my husband and we spice it with fantasies, and although most have gone unfulfilled they are something we hope someday may become real.

Over the past few years my fantasies have gotten more intense, more vivid and I find myself awakening in an intense state of arousal. My husband tells me that since I turned fifty I have been more interested in sex than ever. He calls it "my midlife pussy crisis." fortunately he has not only understood but has encouraged me to explore my needs.

We live in a small conservative town where knowledge of our sexual proclivities might not go over very well so we decided to join an online "lifestyle" web site. We wrote a profile that in broad terms read: "Couple seeks a straight male, and stated her preferences as those of a "tall, Caucasian male, educated, physical and intellectual attraction a must..."

Over the next few months I received dozens of notes, so many of them and some so inappropriate that I asked Paul to filter them and let me know if anything promising showed up.

As I lie here, my fingers playing with my folds, I think of "that" particular letter and it made me cup my hand over my mound and reminisce about last night!.

"You received an interesting letter" Paul told last week, "It is not what I expected, but does sound intriguing"

"Why?" I asked

"Read and you decide."

Dear Anne, it began, excuse me for being so bold but I have been looking at your profile and I find you most attractive, I fulfill each and every one of your requirements except that I am not Caucasian, I sincerely hope you would consider meeting me, and it continues as a very well written and very flattering note.

"Wow, you were right, this is not what I was expecting," I consider myself liberal, have friends of varied racial backgrounds but in spite of being far from sexually naive, I had never dated a black guy.

"Let me think this one over" I told Paul.

That evening I re-read his letter and checked out his profile. Six foot seven inches tall, an athlete, thirty five years old, single, graduate degree, traveled, he sounded like the perfect candidate. We exchanged a few e mails and he seemed fascinating. I found myself agreeing to meet for coffee the following Saturday in Houston where I had some errands to run, and chose a small intimate cafe in a very public place. We met for a little over an hour and my interest and curiosity only increased. I found this guy yet even more interesting in person than online.

"Well, we will talk again" were my parting words, not really believing this would go much further. After all why would this attractive, young guy, who was a good fifteen years younger than I, be interested in a fifty year old woman?

I am moist once again, my fingers easily slip between my lips, and I unfold them and expose my core to my caresses. I probe tentatively and think, "My God I am not only tender but stretched open."

My doubts ended when I received a very sweet note telling me how attractive he found me and that he would love to meet again. Actually it read, "Let's meet again soon!"

"I am going to do this Paul! I am a bit apprehensive but something tells me I need to do it. I want you to back me up. I need you there, not to participate in any way, but to reassure me."

I told Louis I could make it Saturday afternoon, I was 99% sure I was going through with it so I asked Paul to book a room. I found myself noon yesterday preening myself when I told Paul,

"You know I am still a bit apprehensive."

"You have got to be kidding" he answered. "I find that hard to believe, you just trimmed your bush, you laid out your prettiest bra and panties on the bed and you are there applying some musk to your inner thighs, "

Paul tells me that my brain and my pussy are attached to different circuits, one may tell me one thing, the other might tell me another, so he approaches me as I am dabbing on the perfume, reaches for my lips and draws out a long slippery string of juices.

"Really" he exclaimed, and I could do no more than grin.

As we drove our conversation was all about my upcoming date, we ran through possible scenarios, as we finally made it to the boutique hotel where Paul had booked a nice mini suite, He had brought wine, my favorite music and as we arrived early we sat and chatted.

Seeing me nervous Paul was telling me "don't worry, you can still back out if you want," as a ring tone brought me back to reality.

Paul answered, exchanged a few words, and looked at me questioningly. I had made up my mind so I simply assented,

Paul said "room 937" and from the other end I heard "Be there in five."

The mold was set, once I opened the door there would be no turning back. Paul turned on the music and poured the wine I heard the knock on the door, I stood, took a deep breath, walked to the door and invited him in.

He was so charming, so reassuring, he dispelled any misgivings by leaning over me, placing his hands on my shoulders and gently kissing my forehead, my lids, then lifting me off my feet and hugging me.

He set me down, the contrast was absurd, I am only five foot five, so he towered a foot over me. He solved that problem by sitting me on the edge of the sofa and kneeling at my feet.

Paul poured wine for all three and then we began to chat.

We talked for about half an hour, every subject imaginable, I found him very educated and entertaining. The wine gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, I slowly loosened up. The conversation eventually led to sexual subjects. We discussed previous experiences on both sides and while we spoke he rubbed my feet, then my legs and soon was rubbing my thighs.

The conversation suddenly came to a halt, a hush came over the room, Louis stared directly into my eyes and I knew the moment of truth had arrived. He resumed his kissing; he was good, very good. He moved down my neck, my chest. He had dexterously removed my bra and began to caress, kiss, and nibble my nipples in the most torturous way. My skirt soon joined my bra in a pile on the floor and I knew it was just a matter of time before he took me. My heart was beating a mile a minute as he hooked his fingers into my panties and began to peel them down. This was the last barrier.

"Would he like what he sees? Will this fifty year old body meet his expectations?" My panties reached my ankles and I was forced to lift my leg to help him remove them, could see his eyes focused between my thighs and involuntarily, or maybe not I spread my thighs and gave him a full view of what awaited him. He stood, keeping his eyes focused and began to undress. As he pulled down his shorts his cock sprung, and I mean sprung! Into view, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, I expected him to be endowed, but this, this I did not expect

He stood between my knees, hard, throbbing. I had never seen anything like him, it was scary, menacing, my throat was dry, but my pussy soaking wet.

Don't misunderstand me, I have had my share of sexual partners but this was something else, but as I looked down I proved my brain/pussy dichotomy was working, I looked aroused, and I looked ready.

He must have liked what he saw because he knelt, lowered his face and began to kiss the inside of my thighs, he inhaled and sighed, he nuzzled my pubic mound, he kissed around my lips, avoiding what I was yearning for, to feel his face buried deep inside.

He kept on teasing me, had me at the brink of coming but denying me release.

I begged, and at this Louis took one hand and Paul the other. Between them they lifted me and walked me to the bed, and I could see Louis hard, his cock swaying with his gait.

Paul sat at the head of the bed, holding my hands and kissing my eyelids, whispering encouragement, and then sat me up, leaned me against his chest so we would both have a full view of what was about to follow.

Sorry, this is Paul, Pistil's husband. I must interrupt and give you an idea of what happened as seen from another perspective. We have been married over twenty years. I know her very well, I can read her body and can almost always read her mind. Yes I realized she was nervous, as she mentioned this was a collection of firsts. She had never been with a guy this tall, she had not gone out with a guy less than ten years her age, she had never dated a black guy and she had never even seen a cock this large. I am also the guy that coined her brain/pussy dichotomy term, and today this dichotomy was at its peak.

Her look as she lay on the bed is engraved in my mind. Her thighs were splayed, her face and neck flushed, her nipples standing like pencil erasers, her breathing erratic, and her belly rising and falling. What an amazing sight! While Louis knelt between her knees, his cock stiff, engorged, like a black pole adorned with ropy veins and a large shiny glans. He looked impressive. And then the center of all our attention, her swollen outer lips framing her engorged labia. She looked like a large pink calla lily, with drops of moisture beading her lips and rivulets down her thighs. She looked feral, like an animal in heat begging to be mounted.

This is Anne again,

I felt Louis lift my butt and place some pillows below me. I kept my thighs spread, I wanted him to see my excitement, to share my arousal. He crawled up the bed, planted himself between my thighs, held one knee in each hand and lifted, exposing me even fuller. Sweat beaded his forehead, his eyes fixed on his target. His cock looked like an ebony column, crowned with a smooth, plumb sized head. He looked so threatening. Louis knelt above me, my face in his hands, kissing my eyes, my lids, his lips fluttering all over my face and neck, his cock nested between my lips, at my entrance teasing me. I pushed up trying to grasp him and could feel my lips engulfing him, and so did he because he took a handful of my hair, looked into my eyes and asked

"Are you ready?"

I answered by lifting my legs and wrapping them around his buttocks.

"OK then" he whispered and began a slow in and out, side to side, up and down churn and probe, penetrating me little by little, slowly but relentlessly stretching me. I began to feel filled as in never before filled. He stopped, looked at me once more, pushed and sank in completely. We stopped an instant, savoring the feeling. Him throbbing inside me, my pussy contracting around him, a magic moment. But not seconds later, as if on cue, our dance began He grasped my hair once more, his other hand on my shoulder, my legs in the air, making myself accessible.

Paul, who had been holding my hand and giving me encouragement slid his hand between us down towards my belly, and as his hand halted around my navel he told me "oh my God, I can feel him up to here!" and then continued to move his hand down towards where our bodies met. Our movements accelerated, soon became desperate, the room smelled like sex, my pussy became so verbal, noisy, wet, his strokes long and deliberate. I had been expecting pain, but the only pain I felt was the sense of loss as he withdrew, fortunately soothed by him plunging again into my deepest recess. He was good; he found those spots that make my toes curl and concentrated his efforts.

"There" I screamed, "don't stop; don't stop, there, there."

We both lost it, his cock began to pulsate, my pussy to contract around it, his cock spurted, my pussy milked it, we screamed, gripped, shook and experienced a long overdue mutual release and as we came down from that orgasmic height we relaxed and fell into a contented, sweaty, pile as our breathing and heartbeat slowed back to normal.

"Wow" Paul exclaimed "that was awesome"' and began kiss my face and lips.

OK, let me interject once more. These two are lost in their own little world, they might feel, they might hear, but I, as quite the voyeur have a great visual vantage point., I have a 360 degree view, plus I get to enjoy every sound, every smell and the experience was exhilarating. I saw him crawl over her body, his cock swaying from its weight, as he lay over her chest he began this tease with his cock poised at her very entrance. Her response was amazing, her pubic hairs were soaked, her outer lips puffy, her inner lips protruded, she looked like a pink funnel begging to be filled. And no, it was not a static funnel; it had a life of its own. Knowingly or unknowingly to Anne, her pussy moved, throbbed, pulsated, opening then closing over the tip of his cock. She managed to rotate her hips, aiming upwards towards the ceiling, and I heard him ask if she was prepared, then watched him plunge and with slow steady strokes he entered her, and far from recoiling at his thrusts, she thrusted back, all made easy by the flood of juices that bathed his cock.

This first round however was about to end, their movements although coordinated became more desperate. I was lying next to them with my hand between them, sharing her enjoyment, when they must have sensed each other peak. As they clutched fiercely, him groaning, her moaning and finally both came. his buttocks tight, his balls contracting, waves running down the underside of his shaft, she wide open, juices overflowing. With my hand strategically placed where is cock met her opening, I felt everything!.

Minutes, seconds later, I lost count, they relaxed began kissing and mumbling quietly and I caught few phrases,

"I can feel your balls throbbing"... chuckles, "I can feel your pussy contracting," ...smiles.

And saw a flushed look of contentment on her face.

When they rolled apart, spent after what would be the first round of several, I lifted my cup and toasted to her accomplishing all four firsts! And her new found addiction to big black cocks.