Strange Day

What a strange day. I'm still not sure if it was one long hallucination or not. I expect to wake up and find it all was a dream. The fact my mouth has a very distinctive after taste and my thighs are still wet suggest otherwise.

So, there I was, at work bored out of my mind. Please don't misunderstand, I like my job just fine; it is the remainder of my life that has me bored out of my mind. We had so much sex when we were dating, but marriage and then a miscarriage seems to have sucked all the passion from my husband. He seems scared to touch me. A woman has needs. In some ways I bet a woman's needs are stronger than the needs of a man, whose needs seem so fleeting and easily sated while mine grow over months and now years. A simple, quick scratching of the itch may briefly pacify the urge, but it doesn't sate the need. Sigh.

Thank God for the Internet, although I think it more likely it was the doing of someone in a much warmer place. Of course, warm is how I feel, down there. I understand now why we think of down as hot and going south as warm, etc. Oh, the sexual allusions I conjure seemingly constantly.

But I digress to that inescapable subject. Back to that delightfully devilish Internet, at least for the moment. Fear not, my loins will betray me and I will digress. In fact, this tale is one long, sexy, digression. So, what is a bored, undersexed, wife to do? Why, get on line and Google what other bored, undersexed wives do to satisfy their urges. Shockingly enough, or perhaps not so shocking, there are web sites of all kinds - some with movies, some with live cams, and some with stories relating my precise predicament, a lonely wife's problems or at least some clueless man's vision of her problems. But those sites don't satisfy; rather, all they do is frustrate further even if a quick rub can scratch the itch briefly.

Then there are the real sites, the sites that scare, exhilarate and test one's own character – dating sites for the already spoken for. The sign up is anonymous – I created an anonymous email address to sign up. I thought I would just take a peek, I need not act. Heck, it was even free for women.

Oh, what a surprise I was in store for. A collection of young men seeking lonely older women, old men perving on younger lonely women, middle aged men deciding it's a good idea to take pictures of their junk, beer belly's showing. Other pictures where they had to be copied from some porn web site. However disgusting it all seemed, it was a bit erotic in all of its frightening loathsomeness. It turns out there is a world out there more corrupt than I am, which surprised me a bit. On some level I can take some solace in that and not feel quite so debauched. Just when I was sure that everyone on this godless site was either a liar or a freak, I receive an almost interesting message. It is a little witty, a little charming, and isn't over the top at all. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

I respond, laughingly, and send him my email address – anonymous one, mind you. And he sends me a message. It is cute, seemingly non sexual, and not threatening in the least, but he asks me why I am on the site, what I hope to find. As God is my witness, if I had it to do again, I would answer differently. But God does not appear to be my witness today, someone or something else is, and heaven help me I do believe I would let the events unfold the same way all over again.

Something about the request, the playfulness yet maturity and the non threatening nature of it caused me to be more open than I should be. I told the truth. I'm married and undersexed and can't take it anymore. I made no bones about it, I was wanting sex. Not necessarily with him, I didn't even really suggest that. I just made it clear that if I find the right guy, I'm going to fuck him silly. Then I asked him his story.

I expected him to blow it, to show his lack of tact and crudity and tell me how bad he wanted to fuck me silly. He didn't. Oh my, but he didn't. He told me instead how he was in an affectionless marriage, how he longed for physical and emotional closeness, to trace the nape of a woman's neck with his lips, drag his fingernails gently along the small of her back, trace her ankle, the back of her knee, the curve of her breast with the lightest touch of his finger tips. How he longed to raise goose bumps on her, feel her try to press her body, all of it, into his touch to make it firmer, and how he would like the dance to continue, to tantalize, to linger. It was all about her and the responses he could evoke from her, never once saying a word about a hard cock or a wet pussy. But when I was done reading all I could think about was getting his hard cock into my wet pussy.

I convinced myself I was calm, cool and collected. I politely congratulated him on understanding physical affection and let him know how refreshing that was. But, ooops, when I reread what I sent I realized I kind of added that my nipples were hard, "trying to bust through my bra and shirt" I believe I said. Uh oh, I also seem to have told him it made me wet to read what he wrote. And I wasn't lying. My nipples were uncomfortably begging for any attention they could find and every time I shifted in my seat I could feel myself squish. OMG! What was happening?

Of course, my response was chum in the ocean for a shark like him. He took it up a notch, but again, nothing crude, really, mostly just questions. He told me how much it turned him on that I was turned on. That his pants were becoming uncomfortable and he had to shift himself in his seat. He admitted it would be awkward if he left his office and walked past co-workers. Then he asked me if co-workers could see me, could they tell my nipples were hard, could they tell I was flushed, could they smell my arousal.

God, reading his questions, forcing me to look around the office to see if anyone could see me, getting me to inhale to recognize my arousal; it turned me on something awful. No one was particularly looking at me, thank God. Although, a little part of me wanted people to see how excited I was. A part of me wanted the world to know I was alive and sexual and very, very turned on.

I wrote him back. I told him what I wanted the world to know but no nerve to tell the world. I let him know my nipples were dying for attention, I and anyone near me could smell my arousal, and I could feel my sopping wet pussy squish every time I rubbed my legs together.

He wrote back. He asked me when I got off work and what side of town I was on. Then he told me to go the ladies room and take my panties off. I told him the area I worked in, that I was off work in 20 minutes, and then I got up and went to the ladies room and took my panties off. I stroked myself once, twice, and then slid a finger deep inside myself. I caught myself moaning and realized I am far too noisy when I cum to get myself off here. I sucked my juices off my finger. Some women like how they taste, I'm one of them!

When I got back to my desk a message was waiting from him. He didn't ask, he didn't suggest, but he didn't demand, he simply instructed me to pick up the man in the suit in front of the office building at 500 Main Street in 30 minutes.

When quitting time came 15 minutes later, I wobbled to my car wondering if I would do it - if I could do it. We met online that day, somehow he got me dripping wet and fingering myself in the ladies room. What is wrong with me? 10 minutes later I found myself on Main Street. 4 minutes after that I found myself turning onto the drive in front of 500 Main Street. Then I saw him standing there, average height, average build, not bad looking but not special. I could just drive by, he has never seen me he won't know its me. But I have to meet the man who got me so wet. I slowed to a stop and he got in the car without saying a word.

He looked at me with a slight, innocent and friendly grin. There was nothing suggestive or leering, just a pleasant smile filled with happiness. I was surprised by it and it had what was probably the desired effect – it calmed me and made me less nervous, but no less turned on. My heart continued to pound, my nipples continued to ache in their hardness, my pussy continued to leak, and my clit continued to throb.

He suggested I drive around to the side lot. I'm not quite sure how I managed to drive around the corner – thank God for muscle memory. He suggested I go to the back of the mostly deserted lot and park behind the delivery truck in the back. As I parked I realized how secluded it was.

I took a breath having parked, and turned towards him. He had his pants open and was stroking his cock. It was a lovely size – substantial but not scary and thick, it filled his fist nicely as it slid up and down the shaft. His head was circumcised and looked slightly pink and clean. My mouth watered – I love the feel of a cock in my mouth, exploring the shape of the head with my tongue, sucking it deep, surprising my lover when I can take it into my throat. His was looking a bit thick for that, but I sure wanted to try.

He broke me from my trance when he asked me to release my right breast from my blouse. He remembered that I had told him my right nipple was the most sensitive. I unbuttoned my blouse one button then another, then I slipped my full breast from the cup of my bra. The cool air made my impossibly hard nipple harder yet.

"Caress it for me." I did. "Squeeze it for me." I did. "Rub your nipple between your thumb and finger." I complied again. "Can you reach it to lick your nipple?" I nodded yes, dumbly, continuing to stare at his fist sliding up and down his cock. "Lick and suck your nipple for me. Please." He said, encouraging me more than imploring me. Without taking my eyes off that magnificent cock (it just kept getting prettier and prettier as the car got warmer and warmer), I bent my head down and lifted my breast up to my mouth, licking and sucking my nipple. I'm not sure, but I think I moaned - loudly.

"Part your legs for me. Show me your wetness," he instructed. I complied, quite willingly. I became acutely aware of how wet I was and how much my pussy was aching for attention. He was showing me his beautiful cock, I wanted to show him my sweet, juicy pussy. "Its beautiful, mouthwateringly beautiful. Spread your lips for me." I did. "Stick a finger deep inside." I did. "Do you like your own taste?" I nodded yes. "I want to watch you clean your finger." I hungrily sucked my juices off my finger. "That is one of the sexiest things I have ever seen," he said. He closed his eyes for a moment and squeezed his cock to temper his excitement. I could see precum leaking from the tip. God how I wanted to slurp it up.

"Finger yourself again." My pussy was sopping wet and my finger made sexy squishing noises as I fingered myself, then squeezed and rubbed my clit between my thumb and finger, then back to fucking myself with my finger, then back to my clit. Then he told me to cum. "Cum for me Baby. Cum hard for me. See how hard you have made my cock and cum for me." My eyes had never left his hard cock. I came. God, did I cum and cum and cum.

When I began to regain focus, feeling warm and fuzzy and fantastic and sexy as hell, he was smiling broadly, happily, at me. He reached with his free hand for my wet hand and guided it to his mouth without stopping to stroke himself. He proceeded to lick and suck my juices from my fingers.

Then he took my hand and used it to replace his own on his cock. It was hot and firm. I began to stroke as he reached up to take my head in his hand and pull my lips to his. There was nothing gentle about this kiss but the time for gentle was long past. Our mouths opened immediately and our tongues fought each other to see which could get deeper in the other's mouth.

For the first time in hours, I regained control of my senses and my libido. But I embraced it. I broke the kiss and said "your turn to cum." I then bent down and sank my mouth all the way down his shaft until my nose was pushed against his body and his cock was lodged in my swallowing throat. I pulled up and danced my tongue around his head, finally getting to learn its shape, then plunged it back into my throat. Then I sucked it for real, bobbing my head in earnest. I cupped his balls in my hand and gently massaged them, coaxing his load from deep within them. He didn't last long. I knew he wouldn't. I wanted to taste him so I put just the head in my mouth and stroked the shaft as he jerked and shot three big streams and then several littler ones. I savored the taste – I generally like the taste of cum and, although it was probably just the moment, his was delicious. I swallowed it down then gently licked every inch of his cock making sure I cleaned him well.

After a while he stopped me, gently took my chin in his hand and pulled me in for a deep kiss. I love it when a man isn't scared to taste himself on me. After a few moments, he broke the kiss and looked me in the eyes, smiling sweetly. I was amazed at his ability to be incredibly sexy and filled with lust and yet sweet and kind at the same time. I just masturbated for and sucked off a man I only met for the first time moments before doing so, and yet I found him kind and genuine.

He said he really must get home and I realized I must as well. We quickly, and somewhat carelessly, rearranged ourselves and buttoned up. He said his car was in the front lot, so we headed there. I dropped him by his car and watched him get in. I then somehow drove home, wondering if there was any way my husband wouldn't know I just had the greatest sexual experience of my life. His taste was strong in my mouth. I was terrified my husband would notice the smell and god forbid he kiss me hello (not a big risk, sadly) and I'll be damned if I didn't want to keep savoring his taste. God help me, I will be hard pressed not to park behind that delivery truck again.