Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
This is the first time I have written from a woman’s perspective, I hope you like it. Some of the following is based on real occurrences.
I saw my reflection in the shop window. I looked OK, I was pleased. I was still not sure if I was doing the right thing however. Why was I walking down the street to meet him; someone who I had never physically met before, but someone who probably knew more about me, about what made me tick, about very intimate things in my life, than anyone else on the planet. He even knew more about me and my lifestyle than my husband did.
The reflection showed a 40 something woman, dressed in smart tailored skirt, with the hem just a couple of inches above the knee. A tailored jacket covered a blouse with just a couple of buttons undone to show the slightest hint of my cleavage. What the reflection didn’t show was the expensive lace bra and panties underneath my outer clothing. I was glad I looked good as my confidence was not that high; I needed a boost. I was so unsure of what the next few minutes or hours would bring.
So, let’s backtrack. Why was I walking down the street?
My name is Mary; it’s not actually but I need some privacy! As I have said I am a 40 something woman. I have a pampered lifestyle mostly due to my husband’s successful career. This career sees him travel extensively and he now has little time for me and my needs. My children have flown the nest so it just leaves me to find my own interests and hobbies. I will admit that I have not been an angel and have played away from home with both men and women. Not enough times or with enough emotional baggage to risk the marriage, but something that had to be done at the time. There, I’ve said it. Let’s move on.
One of my hobbies is reading and writing erotic literature. Not the sort of stuff that often frequents the internet but some subtle stuff, that builds up to a crescendo. Stuff that’s mostly believable but that doesn’t mean it’s not strong; and I have written on subjects many people would consider to be unacceptable. I also like having email correspondence with like minded individuals; writing stories together and developing ideas. Again, I like it to be believable and while not cutting down on the fantasy of the writing, I have a problem if it’s too out of touch with reality. I like writing in the first person too. I also like sharing some photos with the people I write with. Despite the lack of attention afforded to me by my husband, he does like taking erotic pictures and I have often shared them with my co-writers.
Which brings us nicely to why I am walking down this street in London. Some time ago a fellow writer on Literotica wrote to me saying how much he liked one of my stories and how he had then read a few of my other ones. He said he liked my style, the fact that there was a sense of reality and in some cases a slow build up. I then read some of his stories and in many cases there was a similar style. To cut a long story short I emailed him back, thanked him for his comments and suggested we start writing together. So we did. I will call him Fred. Every so often I had to remind Fred that we had to keep things realistic. We were writing about us in the first person and we were writing about mature people; so for example a mature man having sex six times a night may happen in some stories but frankly it is wishful thinking for most men!
Fred was very good and would change his storylines if I thought it necessary. I was obviously in charge of this developing story!
Based on his comments, he clearly enjoyed the pictures I sent him and our writing developed well. I must admit I was very pleased with what we were achieving and also have to admit to looking forward the next instalments, sitting down with a glass of wine reading the story develop and I don’t mind admitting getting aroused at times as things progressed. We covered all aspects of a sexual relationship with explicit detail as appropriate.
After a while however, I got bored. I didn’t think the story could go any further, so with the beauty of the internet being anonymity, I didn’t bother responding to Fred. He dropped me a couple of emails and left a nice comment on one of my stories, but as far as I was concerned it was a nice thing that happened, we had fun, nobody got hurt, no relationships got damaged. Move on.
Eventually I got an imploring email from Fred, asking me to respond and asking me why I had just stopped communicating. I have to say he was correct. Why hadn’t I the decency to explain why I stopped communicating. Had he upset me? It was common decency wasn’t it, even if decency was not something we covered in our story!
Anyway, I did answer him and we then started chatting via email. We didn’t try writing together again, but did tell each other about good stories we had come across on the internet.
Then one day Fred wrote to me saying; “I would really like to meet up. No strings, no agenda. Just a coffee to say hi and catch up. I feel we know each other canlı bahis so well, it would be nice.”
Unfortunately this email arrived on a day when I was at a particularly low ebb. My husband had emailed to say he would be away for another week, my kids cancelled a planned visit, so as you can imagine, I was therefore susceptible to someone being nice. I wrote back thanking him, but declining as I was not sure it was a good idea. He immediately responded with another bunch of reasons why it would be a good idea and reiterated the no strings or agenda. So I agreed. Which is why I was approaching the agreed coffee bar, with my heart in my mouth and more nerves than a teenager on a first date.
Fred had sent one picture to me, so I had a rough idea what he looked like. To add reality to our stories we had also described ourselves to each other so I recognised him straight away as I entered the coffee bar.
He had seen a number of my pictures, some clothed some not, and stood up and smiled at me as I entered the bar and walked towards him. He held his hand out to shake mine. I was pleased he didn’t try and kiss me.
“I am so pleased you agreed to meet me,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I am not sure it is or was a good idea,” I added, but smiled at the same time.
“Let me get you a coffee, and by the way, it’s so rude of me, you look great,” he gushed, looking me up and down in an appreciative way, but thankfully not a lustful way.
He went to the counter and soon returned with my drink.
“So we meet at last,” he said breaking the silence.
I nodded. “Yes it’s very strange as we know so much about each other, but then again so little.”
“Yes,” there was a pause. An awkward pause for a moment.
“How are things at home, is you husband still away a lot?” Fred asked.
I nodded as I sipped my coffee. “Yes, same old same old,” I smiled. It was funny, it didn’t seem wrong to say that as Fred knew so much about my problems and loneliness.
“He must be mad,” Fred said. “Leaving a lovely women like you so often. “
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I know I said it before,” Fred said, “but I really liked your pictures. They were great and helped me in the writing. Talking of which, I am sorry I lost the plot a few times and lost all sense of reality.”
“That’s OK,” I answered smiling, “and I am sorry I didn’t have the decency to say the story had run its course in my opinion.”
Fred smiled. “No problem.” He looked around to make sure we were not being overheard. He leant towards me. “That piece I wrote about the toys when we went to your house makes me squirm with embarrassment. I don’t know what got into me!”
“Yes,” I said laughing as I remembered the story, “that was a bit strange. Even for you Fred!”
He took the dig well. “Well we live and learn.”
The conversation then really started to flow and we were getting on really well. Again, I had to remind myself that I had written about this man fucking me, making me cum. Sucking his dick. I had written about posing for him. We had shared every intimate moment; about what we say and do at the point of orgasm. Our sexual likes and dislikes. Our experiences; both good and bad. Yet we had never seen each other before, never seen each other naked and exposed and here we were chatting like old friends.
With our coffee was long since finished, Fred asked if I wanted another. “No thanks,” I replied, too much caffeine and I will be bouncing off the walls.”
It was nearly lunch time. Fred asked if I would like to join him for lunch.
I put my hand out and gently touched his. “Fred, this has been great, better than I could have hoped for but unfortunately I really do have to go. I am not making it up as an excuse because I would love to have joined you for lunch. You are such easy company……….”
I stopped before I made a fool of myself. I really had enjoyed meeting him and talking and he really didn’t seem to have an agenda or any strings.”
“Ok,” he said, “but I have to ask you one thing before you go.”
“OK,” I said hesitatingly.
“Do you think we could write together again?”
I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure. “Probably.”
“Good,” Fred said in a relieved way. “Then I want you to think about what I am going to say.”
I looked at him quizzically.
“Look, don’t be afraid,” he smiled. “As you know I have this holiday home by the sea. Why don’t we go there for a few days and write together?”
“Good God, Fred.” I exclaimed. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” He looked offended. “No strings or agenda. Just an interactive writing session.”
“No, I couldn’t.” I said.
I couldn’t answer that question. It seemed wrong, but why?
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes, but I can’t answer why I couldn’t.” realising this sounded so lame.
“Trust me I wont rape or abduct you.” Fred said smiling, trying to lighten the moment.
“I should hope not!” I smiled in response.
“So, at least think bahis siteleri about it Mary?”
I realised this was the first time he had called me by my name. And it sounded nice.
“Let me have your phone number, and I will give you a call.”
I hesitated, before writing it on a napkin and handing it to him. He did likewise, handing me his number.
“Thanks,” he said, “and trust me I wont pressurise you but I think it would be great.”
I nodded, deep in thought. My resolve was beginning to crack, but this was a high risk situation. Two people alone in a house together…..it would not look good even if nothing happened and I was not ready to embark on anything like an affair.
“I know, Fred. It just came as a bit of a shock. I promise I will think about the idea.”
We then said our goodbyes, Fred shaking my hand.
I went home and met the person I was scheduled to meet; a landscape gardener. I couldn’t concentrate on what his ideas where as my mind was elsewhere. I had been thrown by the suggestion Fred had made, but I was thinking more that it would be a good idea. At worst we would write a halfway sensible story, but at best I would have some time away from this lonely and empty house. But there was still that nagging doubt in my mind.
As the evening drew in, I ran myself a hot bath. Feeling refreshed and clean, I poured myself a large glass of wine and prepared my supper. With the food eaten and the kitchen cleared I poured another glass of wine and sat down at my lap top.
First I read the story Fred and I wrote, admonishing myself as I felt myself getting aroused.
I was wearing a dressing gown and knickers and found myself teasing my nipples as I read the story. They were getting harder and harder as the story progressed. Soon the story finished. I was disappointed, as with hindsight there was still some mileage there to finish it in a better way. It fact it didn’t finish; it was totally unfinished and it was my fault.
I then started reading some of Fred’s other stories. Stories on Literotica. My arousal was increasing and my hands moved down from my full breasts over my flat tummy and into my knickers. I let my finger slide along my slit; aware of how wet I was. I gently inserted my finger inside me as the man in the story entered his partner. As the story described the man fucking the women, so I fingered my self. I was finding it hard to read and finger myself at the same time. It is not true that women can multi task in everything. My need was building. The reading would have to wait.
I opened my legs wider and as I fingered myself with one hand, I used the index finger of the other hand to stroke my engorged clit. That was what was required as within seconds, a giant orgasm consumed me. Removing my fingers from my soaking wet pussy, I licked them, remembering the lesbian fling I had and how I loved the taste of her pussy.
My thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. Without looking at the number I answered it.
“It’s Fred. I am not bothering you or interrupting anything am I?”
I knowingly smiled. “No, nothing much.”
“Sorry to bother you and I don’t mean to hassle you, well actually that’s a lie,” he laughed, “but have you thought anymore about writing together again. It’s just that I was driving to the house this afternoon and have some great ideas I would like to share with you.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yes, so have you given it any more thought?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I think it’s a crazy idea. Its fraught with danger, we could both get into trouble as even though there are no strings and it’s purely about writing, the outside world wouldn’t think that if we were to be seen together.”
“But,” Fred tried to interrupt.
“No, let me finish. I know you will say nobody will see us and you will reiterate the no strings and so on, but it’s stupid and risky.”
“Oh,” Fred said. “I can’t help but say I am disappointed.”
“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it did I?” I laughed. “It really is madness, risky, stupid and all the things I said, but it might be fun and I have just re-read our story we did and we really did write well together. So yes, I will come and write with you. As mad and stupid as it is.”
“Brilliant, I am so pleased,” Fred gushed. “You won’t regret it. We will have a good time and get some good writing done.”
“I hope so.”
“So when can we do this?” Fred asked.
“You said you were there now? How long are you staying there?”
“Yes, for three days. I don’t suppose you can come down tomorrow? Either by train and I’ll pick you up or drive down?”
“Hold on a sec,” I said. “Let me look in my diary.”
There was no point as I knew I had nothing planned for the next few days.
“Yes, that works well for me.”
“Great. I’ll Email the address to you and look to comedown tomorrow morning. We can have lunch and then maybe get a few hours writing done before dinner. Sound good?”
“Yes, great. I will let bahis şirketleri you know timings when I am on the road.”
“Great, brilliant. You won’t regret it Mary. Sleep tight and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
“OK, sleep tight Fred.”
As I hung up I muttered “you fucking idiot” to myself as self doubt filled me again. Oh well, I had done it now. I started reading one of Fred’s other stories and again started to feel aroused as I read the flowing words. “Oh well,” I thought as my finger found its natural resting place and started its journey to giving me another orgasm.
I did sleep well that night, albeit there was still a nagging doubt that I was doing something very stupid.
The next morning I packed an overnight bag and jumped in the car, programming the satnav with the address Fred had given me. When I was about an hour or so from his house I pulled over and sent him a text.
“About an hour to go. I hope I am not doing something stupid x”
A response came immediately. “Great and no you are not x”
The hour soon past and I was soon pulling up outside a house in a very smart road in a tiny village. As I opened the gates, a panoramic sea view was all I could see. I was stunned. It was glorious.
“It’s not bad is it?” Fred said as he approached me.
He shook my hand and leant forward to kiss me on the cheek. I froze and must have noticed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be, it’s OK,” I said reassuringly and was pleased to see him smile at me.
“Come on in, have a look around.”
Fred showed me around the house, showed me my room and en-suite and where the towels and toiletries were.
“I was thinking about having lunch on the decking as it’s such a nice day, is that OK?” he asked.
“Perfect, let me freshen up and I will be with you. Anything I can do to help?”
“No, all under control thanks, just bring yourself.”
I soon joined him on the decking taking in the stunning views. We shared a fantastic ham salad and a chilled bottle of wine, talking as if we had been life long friends. There was no tension; no atmosphere and nothing that made me feel ill at ease. I was getting more and more relaxed by the minute.
With the bottle finished, Fred asked if he should get another or should we start on our writing?
“Another bottle sounds good, but depends what you want to do with me this afternoon?” I laughed, and regretted my throw away comment immediately.
Fred laughed. “Well as I said there are no strings or agenda’s and you will be safe with me, let’s at least start another while we plan what we are going to do.”
I was relieved I had got away with my inadvertent innuendo.
We drank most of the bottle as we chatted about what to do. Fred gave me some of his ideas and one in particular we liked, changed it a bit and then went inside and started work.
Fred had a fully equipped office and as I started writing he put some music on. After about half an hour, I stopped, let him read it and then do his part of the story.
We soon got into a real rhythm and the afternoon flew by. By about 6 we were both peckish. It was also a good time to stop as the story had evolved to a situation where we were going to go to bed together.
Fred ordered take away Pizza and we chatted and finished the wine while we waited.
I was feeling really relaxed, from both the company, the little buzz you get from wine and from what we had achieved. The story would need some editing, but what we had was good.
We had both had a fair bit to drink by now.
“Do you fancy a walk Mary, some fresh air?”
“That sounds good,” I said.
We quickly put some jackets on and walked down to the beach, the sea air clearing our heads brilliantly. As we re entered his house there was a strange silence; I think we both knew that somehow how friendship had changed. It had developed and neither was sure what would happen next.
“Shall we carry on with the story, or give it a break until tomorrow?” I asked.
“I don’t mind, but I do feel weary. Maybe a shower will wake me up. Shall we carry on tomorrow; catch a film or some TV now?”
“Yea, that would be great; can I have a bath?”
“Of course and there is a dressing gown behind the door if you don’t want to get dressed again.”
I looked at him strangely.
“Of course if you don’t want to wear the gown, I won’t complain,” he added smiling at me, defusing the situation.
Freshly bathed and showered we sat in Fred’s lounge as we watched junk TV, laughing at the contestants. I will admit that I couldn’t stop myself taking a sneaky look at Fred’s legs that really were very nice, and then telling myself off for doing so. I was also aware that my gown was very large and would, if I wasn’t careful, gape and expose myself to him. While he had seen pictures of me, naked pictures to boot, it was different in the environment of his house.
We both agreed our heads were better and another glass of wine would go down well.
As he handed me my glass, I leant forward and as he poured the wine, I was aware the gown was gaping and if he couldn’t see all of my breasts, he could see most of them.
With the glass filled, I rearranged my gown.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32