The Secret Meeting

*This is a bit dirtier than I usually do. Writers often write to express how they’re feeling and this reflects my current mood exactly. It is a work of fiction but of course, its fabric is woven from strands of truth in my life. I hope you enjoy. 

It was a shockingly simple thing to do. I’d gotten dozens of messages a day from people. Some flattering, some harassing, some rather offputting, some asking if I’d take money for sex, some stating in a rather limited vocabulary what they want to do with my “holes”. Charming. Some men eagerly share their dick pics without being asked. In their minds, they have a magic penis. It’s so magic that the mere sight of it will cause me to throw all caution to the wind and mindlessly submit to them as their sex slave. When in fact it’s just another common penis that would blend into the millions of other dick pics taken every hour. I’ve seen more stunted, nasty cocks this way than I care to admit. Nothing magic about them.

So what was it about this particular message? I wild whim. That’s all. Nothing more. And he would be ringing the doorbell any minute. It was risky. I was home alone. Everyone was out for the day and wouldn’t be returning for hours yet. What about my safety? There was a loaded .45 in the bedroom safe that could ensure that. But it was insanely risky. My heart pounded in intense nervousness. I could always not answer the door. That was always an option. 

I’d showered and done my hair and makeup like I was going out for a romantic evening. I’d shaved my legs and they were gloriously smooth. I’d trimmed my hair below to be short, but not bald.

I debated what to wear. It was all a pretense. He was coming over for one reason alone, why pretend anything else? I had been given a silk Oriental robe as a birthday present once. It was blue with embroidered dragons and floral patterns on it. I’d never worn it. I put it on now over my bare skin. It was cool and silky. It felt delicious. It had kimono sleeves and only came to my mid-thigh in length. I tied it tightly, with the neck done up high. My nipples protruded under the thin silk below and my heavy breasts bounced gratuitously in it whenever I took a step. This would do. Then I waited.

Each minute was an agony. Would he live up to the picture he’d sent? What if I’d been catfished? I suppose I could just shut the door in his face and say he has the wrong address. After all, I had the power here. I kept telling my self that over and over. I had the power. This was my decision. I was in control. The doorbell rang. The time was here. I felt dizzy with anticipation as I walked over to the front door. I fumbled with the locks. It felt like I was in a dream. I must be insane to be doing something like this! I opened the door and the young man stood in front of me.

He was probably ten years younger than me which would have put him in his mid 20’s. He was handsome. Very handsome. He had blonde hair that he had parted and these deliciously blue eyes that always seemed to smile. That’s why I’d responded to his message. I was simultaneously relieved that he was as gorgeous as he portrayed himself online and terrified that I would lose my cool. I am in charge. I am in charge. I asked him to come in and he did. A stranger was in my home. As I closed the door behind him I could smell his scent. It was very pleasant and clean.

“Welcome,” I said. What an awful beginning.

“Thanks, nice house.” He looked almost as nervous as I did. He was taller than I was. He was very thin. This made him look even younger.

“Thank you. I do my best.” This conversation was becoming small talk. He didn’t come here for small talk. Stop being so nice and start being sexy! We stood in the front room. Awkwardly shifting our weight back and forth. I decided to take control decisively. I moved in close. I didn’t even know his name. Just his username. I didn’t care. I pressed myself against him. He was lean and hard. I was soft and inviting.

He seemed shocked by my forwardness. That was good. Let’s give him an experience. I had to tilt my head upwards to reach his face with mine. He must have been around 6’3”. I leaned up and came in for a kiss. Hesitating just before my lips reached his. He made up for the distance and we were kissing. He was a passionate and sensual kisser. He approached it as an art. Many men hate kissing or skip it entirely. Not him. His lips were soft and every so often he would suck on my lips before we parted, as though he wanted to taste every last drop of me.

I could feel a hardness swelling up in his pants, the sensation drove me wild. It was like pouring gasoline on the flame of my lust. I could feel my vagina lips were swollen too. Swollen and wet with desire. I broke away from the kiss and backed up. The neck of my robe had become loose and I was showing a shocking amount of breast.

He leaned back against the wall as if to catch his balance. I could see a massive bulge in the front of his grey trousers.

“Take off your clothes,” I said. I was surprised at how much power there was in my voice. It was a command, not a request. He began to lift his black t-shirt over his head, exposing a flat stomach covered in a light blonde trail of hair. “No,” I said, “take off your pants first. He didn’t say a word and only smiled nervously.

Standing there watching a man take my commands and start to undo his belt enflamed me. He undid the belt, then the zipper. I could see the tops of his white garment bottoms underneath. He slid his pants down quickly. The elongated shape of his hard penis was amazing. It wobbled and bounced beneath the fabric of his underwear. I wanted to rush forward and touch it. But I was in command, even of myself. He then slid down his bottoms. I always think there’s something comical to the way an erect penis moves and this was no exception. But it was longer than I thought it would be. Much longer than my husbands. It was surrounded by a tuft of light brown hair. His balls were pink and hung loose and covered in the same down fur as above. I usually like smooth balls, but I’m not one to turn down a free gift.

He stood there, naked from the bottom down. His penis stood out straight and long. It was the straightest penis I’d ever seen. I slowly untied my robe and let it slip off my shoulders. My breasts exposed to his view. I then let it slide the rest of the way down to the floor and I stood there naked. His eyes drank me in from head to toe. My long brown hair, my large full pale breasts, my hands covered my stomach over where my short trimmed hair covered my moist slit, and my long legs were crossed below.

“Go sit on the couch,” I said and he obeyed. He sat there with his circumcised cock sticking straight up to the sky. It was also pale and crisscrossed with light blue veins over a dark pink head. I came and knelt next to him. I wanted to feel his lips against mine again, so I kissed him. He was trembling, I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold of being half-naked or if he was nervous. In the blind passion of kissing him, I reached over between his legs.

My fingers first brushed against the soft skin of his scrotum. I held his balls lightly in my hand and moved them around gently as we kissed. He gave a tiny moan. I walked my fingers slowly up his long shaft until they reached the top. I wrapped my hand firmly around his cock. Out kissing grew more and more passionate, our breathing heavier and heavier. I began to stroke him gently up and down his impressive length.

The novelty of a new lover was exciting. New tastes and smells. New movements and techniques. The feeling of a new cock in my hand. His hands fumbled at my breasts. Holding them and squeezing them. I didn’t want to go too hard with my hand. I didn’t want him to finish too early.

I sat down and let his fingers explore me. They found my closed pussy lips and he gently pressed them apart. They were slippery and wet. He wasted no time in slipping a finger inside me. He was gentle and caring, so it didn’t hurt. He knew what he was doing too. He quickly found my G-spot and began to stroke it with a “come hither” motion. I moved and gyrated my hips in pleasure. I was so wet! He was consistent and firm in his motions and soon my eyes were rolling in my head and my legs shaking in delight.

“Do me,” I said. I stood up and knelt down on the couch with my butt exposed to him. I wanted him to take me from behind. He dutifully produced a condom and rolled it over the length of his hardness. I hadn’t used condoms in years with my husband. It was a novelty and very exciting. He placed one hand on my butt while the other guided him inside me. I gasped involuntarily as he entered. “Do me hard!” I said. He obeyed.

He furiously pounded me from behind. I could feel my butt moving with his thrusts and I thrust myself back on him each time. The slapping noises of our lovemaking were loud and vigorous. I heaved with each motion relishing how deep inside me he pounded. My mind lost track of everything. I was only conscious to the constant pounding, the glorious numbness of pleasure. My orgasm arrived and I felt it surge through my body. Then another. And another. I never wanted it to end. I wanted it to last forever.

His thrusting suddenly stopped and I could hear him moan and grunt as he came inside me. He held my hips firmly against him like he didn’t want me to escape. He kept pulsing and I could feel each surge inside me. Eventually, he began to lose his hardness and he pulled out. Condoms are clean with no awkward mess. I could see he filled the tip of it with an impressive load.

“Take that with you when you leave,” I said. I was surprised at my brusqueness. I usually enjoyed tenderness and snuggling long afterward, but I was in charge and I wanted him to leave. Why? No reason whatsoever. He didn’t look hurt. He got what he came for. I sat on the couch naked, gently stroking my stomach and pubic hair as I watched him dress. His long, limp cock oozed the remnants of his cum and it soaked into his underwear. There was my wetness drying on his shirt where it had touched my vagina as he pounded me from behind. A souvenir for him to take home, that and the goody bag in his hand.

When he was dressed, I stood up and kissed him passionately on the mouth. It was a long kiss, hot with the steam of our intimacy still in it. “Have a good day honey,” I said as I ushered him to the front door. I opened the door, still fully naked, kissed him one more time, then shut it and locked it behind him.

I went upstairs and showered. It always felt so good to shower after sex. My vagina still throbbed from his pounding and was a little raw from the friction of the condom. But it was good. I dried myself off with my clean towel and dressed. I surveyed the house to make sure I hadn’t left any incriminating evidence of our tryst. There was none. I went out the front door and locked my sister’s house up. She’d be returning soon and I didn’t want her to find anything amiss.