The Freyja Club Ch. 16

When I first bought the IBM PC and installed the WordPerfect software, it had been my expectation that I would be simply transcribing the erotic stories that I had written and typed up, but now, several days into the process, I recognized that instead, I was engaged in a massive rewrite of all of my previous stories.

It was one a.m. as I pushed myself back from the keyboard and reflected on why this was happening. The most obvious reason was that I recognized that I was now a much better writer than I had been when I first started composing erotic stories as a relaxing diversion from long plane rides and lonely nights in hotels around the world. To be honest, I was somewhat embarrassed by some of the amateurish verbiage that I had once thought was so descriptive and arousing, and as new and better phrases filled my mind, paragraph after paragraph were completely discarded and replaced.

The second reason was more subtle. Since my initiation into the Freyja Club over a year ago, I had become immersed in a hedonic lifestyle, the impact of which was giving me a much richer understanding of the subject of 'eroticism,' than I previously had. Plus, I realized that the relations with over a dozen different women over the past year had also provided, for me, a deeper appreciation of the emotional quality and nuances of the female side of the sexual experience which I was now incorporating into the rewrites.

These weren't my male assumptions about how women felt before, during and after sex, it was what they actually said. Oh, I had heard some of these things, like to urge at the point of insemination, for women to push their pelvises forward in a manner that insured that the male ejaculation would be placed deeply into the woman's womb, but hearing the same comment from many of them reinforced in my mind that this wasn't just an isolated comment, but something that I should address in my narratives so they captured the reality of sexual union. Of course there were other insights as well, but only some of which I could incorporate in any single story.

What did women really mean when they moaned that they loved the feeling of "being filled?" I wanted to know, but the answers I got sounded a lot more like they were telling me that it was more akin to feelings of 'closeness,' than a tactile physical experience, although that was present as well. Sadly, I knew that I would now not be satisfied until these new insights found their way into my narratives.

The story that I'd been working on was a perfect example of my quandary. It was a slightly embellished rendition of something that had actually happened, as were a lot of what I'd written over the years. It recounted the circumstances that had led to the current relationship I had with Karen who, for all intents and purposes, was now my 'significant other,' if anyone actually qualified for that title.

Karen and I had known each other for years before we became lovers. When I first met her she was an HR manager in the company I worked for, but soon thereafter she left to start her own consulting practice and we lost touch for several years until later when we began to use her as a consultant.

Karen was a useful asset when we were evaluating prospective acquisition candidates, particularly when it came to those sticky questions about what we would be proposing for the company's senior management and ownership. Would they still have jobs and responsibilities or would they be bought out? Since many of these discussions were extremely sensitive and often the success or failure of the entire deal depended on the answers, we usually didn't use our own HR people until later in the process.

Like Jennifer, another significant woman in my life, she wore glasses, but unlike her, she clipped her blonde hair short. Physically she and Jennifer were virtual twins. Same figure, same height, weight and skin color. The biggest difference was that Karen had big dimples, smaller breasts and slightly buck teeth. The teeth especially bothered her but she was deathly afraid of dental work so never tried to have them fixed. For my part, I thought they looked cute.

At the time we became lovers, Karen was married but separated from her second husband Steve. Yeah I know, Jennifer also had a husband named Steve, but this was just a coincidence. Karen also had a son, Kevin who was a freshman at Cornell.

As I said, Karen and I had worked together, off and on, for years and even had quite a few dinners together. We always seemed to be comfortable in each other's company and over time we gradually opened up to each other about both personal and professional things that you normally wouldn't share.

As I said, there were several instances, especially in the late 1970's when Karen would actually be working for me on various projects and I would be lying if I said that after some late night dinners and drinks the thought of asking her to join me in my room hadn't occurred to me. Indeed it had, lots of times. I found her incredibly seductive. However, I had made myself a promise years before, to never play in my own sandbox, and even though Karen was technically a consultant and not an employee, while I was supervising her I considered her covered by my personal covenant.

Years later, Karen confessed that there had been several times during that period that had I given her the slightest inkling that I was harboring such thoughts she would have torn my clothes off right there. Twice, she admitted that she herself was thinking about how she could seduce me into her bed. The offer was on her lips but went unsaid. Both times she also confessed that she took out her sexual frustration with her trusty vibrator. Apparently she also called me some bad names.

So, how did we finally get together?

Like so many things in my life, God brought us together. Yes, I know. Generally crediting God with arranging illicit affairs is not normally something we hear about in Sunday sermons. But when I tell you how it happened, you can give me a better explanation.

The year was 1980 and global markets were opening and expanding. While this was happening everywhere, the biggest untapped market was China. Several of our biggest corporate clients were busy expanding operations there and as a key supplier we were expected to support this by producing products for them in China. This meant that we either had to acquire, or most likely build a factory in China to do so.

At this time I was not only the senior executive in charge of the business group that supplied these clients, but from my previous stint in business development I was also the person that had the asian based contacts to be able to answer the question of exactly how we should proceed. That's how one night in November 1980 I found myself at the Grand Hyatt Hong Kong.

My plane had arrived late afternoon and after the obligatory suicide cab ride through the streets of Kwaloon, I checked into the hotel, made some calls to confirm appointments for the next day, made a note to call the office after eleven p.m. local and headed to the VIP lounge for a quick drink before dinner.

I should point out that, unlike the U.S., most top tier international hotels have a VIP lounge for which you have to be specially registered. Usually they're located on the top floor, and in the case at the Hyatt, this meant the twenty-first floor.

My room was on the seventeenth, so I hit the up button on the elevator and waited, then twenty seconds later, the doors slid open and there stood Karen.

If this was a movie, the camera would be panning from her face to mine and back again several times registering the total disbelief on both of our faces. Concerned that the door was going to close in my face I stepped in and we gave each other big hugs while talking over each other saying I didn't know you were here. Words fail to adequately describe the awkwardness of the situation, but in a few seconds we were laughing together.

She said she had just gotten on the elevator from her room on the fourteenth floor on her way to the lounge when the bell rang at seventeen and the doors opened to reveal....me.

At the time, we hadn't seen each other for about eight months, so you can imagine that it required a few free drinks in the lounge for us to catch up. The big news was her announcement that she had separated from Steve and had moved into an apartment. I had gathered that they may have been having some problems but I also knew that since it was her second marriage she was willing to try to work things out. Apparently it wasn't going the way she hoped.

We had dinner in the hotel dining room at a little two person table that was next to a huge glass wall that looked out at the harbor and the lighted skyscrapers on Hong Kong Island. It was beautiful. The room was dark by U.S. standards and our table was lit by a little shaded lamp that provided just the right amount of light to make Karen's face glow.

Of course she was working. Her client was a Chinese software company who was looking to expand into the United States and she was conducting a two week seminar in one of the meeting rooms downstairs for some of their employees who would be working in the U.S. Apparently everyone wanted to go, so a secondary part of her assignment was to evaluate the participants and recommend who should be selected. We both knew this included identifying who wouldn't defect.

Remember, in 1980, Hong Kong was still a British colony, so it was not unusual for Chinese companies to meet their western counterparts there. It was considered neutral ground.

After dinner we returned to the VIP lounge which was now mostly empty. Besides Karen and I there were only two Asian gentlemen sitting at the bar, the bartender and one waitress. We both ordered wine and sat in a lounge that faced the harbor. It was pretty much the same view we had at dinner, but just as beautiful. We sipped wine and talked for about an hour and as we did I could feel something magical was happening.

It came to a head when I felt Karen's lips on mine. To this day, the circumstances leading to that first delicious kiss are murky. Did I lean in and kiss her? Did her lips seek mine first? I don't honestly know. But suddenly we were embracing like long lost lovers. Lover's only in our minds perhaps, but lovers nonetheless.

After our kiss, the next obvious, but as yet unasked question was, my room or her's? Apparently we were both thinking in unison, because before I could speak, she said, "My room is a mess, I've got seminar materials spread all over the bed, the tables and the couch, if I have to move them now I'll never get them back in order."

I quickly signed the tab and arm in arm we headed to the elevator. I waved to the bartender and glanced at the two men at a table still immersed in whatever they were discussing. I could smell Karen's perfume which was always distinctive and of course my mind was racing with the possibilities that could be laying ahead. I had fantasized numerous times about sex with Karen, and I was hoping that reality would not be a disappointment.

I was pretty sure that my room wasn't a mess because I hadn't even started unpacking. My suitcase stood unopened next to the closet and the fruit bowl that the hotel provided as a welcoming gift was still displayed on the coffee table. Once inside we again embraced and our tongue's met and began a gentle exploration. After a moment, Karen excused herself and headed to the bathroom and I headed to the small refrigerator which was an honor bar. I took out two carafes of Pinot Grigio and poured their contents into the two wine glasses that sat on top of the bar.

I was still holding both glasses and staring out at Hong Kong harbor when I felt one bare arm encircle my waist while a slim hand reached from behind to relieve me of one of the glasses. I knew instantly that some clothing had been removed since when last I saw her, Karen was wearing a stylish gray jacket over a red blouse. Naked arms were a clue that the jacket was gone and most like the blouse was too.

I felt her lips nuzzle the nape of my neck with fleeting kisses and I could feel her body press against my back. Looking up I could see us reflected in the window as the room lights backlit the two figures who were pressed together. In the dim reflection it was impossible to discern whether Karen was completely naked, but it seemed so. The thought crossed my mind that in none of my fantasies about this moment did I envision first seeing her naked body as a reflection in a window.

Savoring the moment, I took a sip of wine and said, "You seem to be missing some of your clothes, have you misplaced them?" The slim hand disappeared and I could see Karen also taking a sip of wine. She replied, "I had to, I could never let you see what underwear I was wearing, you would have thought I was an eighty-year old grandmother." Later I did get a look and I had to agree that if I was a woman seeking a romantic evening I would definitely have not worn what she had. The white panties were more like boxer shorts and the bra was designed for utility not seduction. Since Karen had no idea when she dressed that morning that she would be in this situation, I'm sure it never crossed her mind.

As I turned towards Karen, her feminine nakedness was on full display. At the time she was 40 but didn't look that old. She was in great shape. Every morning she did the RCMP exercises and it showed. There was very little fat on her 5'-5" frame and her skin was flawless. Her slender shoulders held thin but firm arms, and her hips curved nicely down to well muscled feminine legs.

Her 36C breasts showed just the slighted sag and were well proportioned. The darkened areola was evidence of her child bearing, and the sparse patch of brown pubic hair gave the final emphasis to the display of her womanhood.

I enjoyed the view for longer than was probably necessary and I complimented Karen on her body. Then taking her into my arms we shared a deep searching kiss, while my hands caressed her bare back and butt. Pulling her closer I pushed my groin into her wanting her to feel the arousal that she was creating. When I went to loosen my tie, Karen said something that totally surprised me. "Don't. I've fantasized about this. Just let me..."

Her voice trailed off as she slipped to her knees and unzipped me. "This is my first time since my separation," Karen said, as if that carried some significance. If so, it was only significant to her. Reaching in, she succeeded in grasping my penis and pulled it out of my slacks. For a second she just stared at what she had found and actually licked her lips. She placed one hand under the shaft and tested its weight, then she encircled the girth with her fingers gently squeezing and feeling the increasing firmness as she manipulated me. Glancing to my left I noticed that there was a full length mirror attached to the inside of the bathroom door which was partially open to just the right angle that revealed the scene taking place. I could see Karen's naked body as seen from the side, kneeling and holding me close to her face while she examined and played with my exposed member. I glanced down and was rewarded with a different view. I thought to myself that this could get interesting.

Looking directly into my eyes, Karen leaned forward and took me into her mouth. When she did so, she let out a guttural moan of pleasure. For what seemed like minutes she just let me fill her mouth. I could feel her tongue exploring every inch of what she'd found. It was as if she was measuring my length and girth, my texture and my taste all at one time.

Then removing me, but still holding on with one hand, she said something that startled me at the time, and still resonates in my memory. She said, "I want you to know that I have never felt more like a woman than I am right now...naked, kneeling in front of you with your wonderful cock in my mouth." I wish I could tell you that I responded with some equally profound statement, but that would be a lie. I was so startled by Karen's confession, I think I just stared, probably open mouthed.

When I first wrote about this encounter, I was completely oblivious to the struggle that professional women have in accommodating the need to be assertive in their business relationships with the built-in submissiveness that nature has programmed into their genes when it comes to sex. Looking back, Karen's comment that had so startled me at the time was simply her attempt to communicate the means by which she had come to reconcile this quandary, and I knew in any rewrite of the story, I needed to describe this inner struggle.

Karen had confessed that she was acting out a fantasy that she'd had for some time, so she resumed feeding me into her mouth and sliding her lips down my shaft. By no means was she "deep throating" me, but she was capable of coming close. At one point it seemed that she was feeling restricted by the fact that my slacks were still buttoned, so I felt her reach up and release my belt and open my pants. Then pulling down my slacks and underwear to about mid thigh she was able to gain access to all of me. In the process I found it necessary to lean against the back of the sofa.

Glancing at the mirror again, I could see that this slight change of position still allowed me a clear view. From this angle I could see my length as it was engulfed by Karen's warm mouth and the bounce of her breasts as she moved. I marveled once again at the masterful design of the female body. The softness of tits and skin contrasting with the firm outline of Karen's thin but muscular arms fascinated me.

Having relinquished my cock, Karen moved to kiss and mouth my ball sack, her free hand cupping and weighing the contents. She was inhaling deeply as I'm sure I was emitting copious masculine pheromones and it was probably arousing her the same way her perfume always affected me.

My sensitivity was growing by the minute and as much as I wanted Karen to fulfill her fantasy, I was also determined to fulfill some of my own. While I was approaching 50, I was mindful that in some important ways, I wasn't quite the man I used to be. Finally I pulled Karen to her feet, and explaining the facts of life, I suggested that a trip to the bedroom might be in order. Karen pouted for a few seconds, before she picked up her glass and headed in the direction I indicated. I let her lead the way, satisfied to follow her delicious womanly butt.

I undressed, and when we were both fully naked we embraced under the bed covers. My hands found her soft and pliant breasts and fingers slipped between parted legs. She continued to squeeze and fondle me and we found time to caress every part of each other's body.

My fingers dipped into her slit and I discovered that in a matter of just a few minutes Karen had already become wet and aroused enough to receive me. For my part, I was firm enough that no hand guidance was necessary as the tip of my penis easily found her entrance and I slipped into her effortlessly.

Women have explained to me the feeling they have when they are highly aroused and wet enough to be penetrated easily. They describe the feeling as a welcome pressure and I experience some of that when I feel their vaginal muscles clamp down on me. For men, it's more the feeling of being enwrapped and enfolded in feminine warmth. Being inside is an exquisite sensation that begins to mount as I begin to slowly stroke in and out. Male arousal generally only goes in one direction, up.

We were in the classic missionary position and Karen's legs were locked around my back. I was fucking her at an angle that was brushing against her clit and I could tell by her comments and urgings that we were both getting close. Sometimes when the chemistry is right, intercourse seems almost effortless. My thrust into Karen's pussy was matched by hers and while few, if any, words were spoken, we felt a merging of our souls that almost transcended the union of thrusting cock and yielding pussy. Near the end I felt Karen's hand slip between our bodies and it was obvious that her fingers found her pleasure button, because just moments before I filled her, she came.